Maiden of Rohan
by Danu F. Ritchie
Summary: A servant of Rohan's court, serving Eowyn, falls in love with the King Eomer. Their romance is actually quite...funny. Give it a chance, and read. Reviews are appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

My story is forgotten. I am nothing in the pages of history, only mentioned once as a concubine. But no, there was much between the lost pages of Rohan's history. So? I shall resurface what was lost...my love. It will be known once more.

Originally I was bought unto the empire of Rohan as a servant, a descendant of the wild men of the south. My mother was a supposed flower, birthing me and with mounted courage, gave me away not to suffer as she had the wife of a rogue, a thief. She wanted more than that for me when she looked down into my olive skinned face, bright and placid over my heart shaped face. My eyes were quite a commodity, it was said, as the steal gray of my eyes was said to harbor the clouds. As it were, the first moment I glimpsed myself in the reflection of Lady Eowyn's mirror, I blanched. I'd not known how wild I looked, so took the time to tame my wild black curls, smoothing them into waves down my back.

All my life I have served as Lady Eowyn's maidservant, in the constant presence of her and her brother, Eomer. As well as Theodan and his important men from across the maps. I held an intense curiosity for men, as I was not allowed to speak to them, and if I did, it was to offer them ale or beer. Or to wash their shoes or carry their armor to the blacksmith for repair.  
I would dawdle with these tasks always, lingering in the hall where a meeting was taking place, listening to the soothing, low rhythms of men's voices. They sounded gruff, almost the same. Yet Eomer's held a difference I was sure only I could appreciate. It was something husky and affirmative, but always low and demanding, slick with honey and oils, tension and pain reaching through the lines of his face. He was not good at hiding his feelings, and never has been. But as a girl of fourteen I would wash mugs in the hall, glancing over my shoulder often to survey his expression. It seemed always worried, as if he could never wipe the stresses that challenged him daily, from his face.

As a girl I was intrigued by him. By his masculinity, by his skill at tournaments and horseback riding, his friendships amongst the court. I could tell you in my young age, what scandal was present, and who Eomer was most fond of. Though it was hard to find fault in him. He was oddly perfect, a warlord- strict on himself and ready to face anything, all the while dreading it. Though he never had a sweetheart in his young years, and he never dishonored his brothers. Eomer was my obsession, and as Eowyn's maidservant I was bound to my own code of secrecy, infatuated by his every move. If he entered the room, by breath would quicken. If he left the room, I would flinch.

Overall, the reason I adored this man I hardly knew but from his outward actions, was because he and myself were excruciatingly alike. Both strict with ourselves, both dedicated to being the best we could be, but all the while longing for something more. I knew him, and though he'd not so much as glanced at me in the court, I held a fragment of rancid hope that he could feel the same about me, if he knew me. This hope ate me from the inside out, leaving me restless and defeated, though striving for the next day just to be filled with the same feeling.

If anyone heard my thoughts, they would assume I was insane. I was simply a girl with infatuation reigning over her, and, to be honest, there was hardly a world I belonged in within the court. I was a ghost, nothing but a servant. Until the war of the rings ended in victory, where my life changed drastically in the form of socialites.  
I was allowed entry to the festivities, all the while standing beside Eowyn, always one step behind her. Though she seemed to like speaking with me, almost as if I were the only one that could not speak back, but listened intently to her gossip.

"Maerien- look," Eowyn had clasped her hand round mine, possibly breathless in her own sense, "He's here. Faramir of Gondor..." She gave me a meaningful glance, full of hope and repressed emotions. For a moment I understood her feelings entirely, relating to her for the first time in many years. I wanted to say something, to insist that she speak with him- but she did without me telling her so.

She left me, alone against the pillar in the great hall, a ghost once again among the rowdy men from across middle earth. Though there were some elves and dwarves, they had their own upheaval of activities thriving in the celebration atmosphere. I stood alone, scanning the hall, until I found his eyes, the eyes that held so much stress in their mahogany sheen. But they were focused on a man next to him, and that man...was pointing directly across the hall. I swiveled on my toes, curious to see what had captured his friend's attention so raptly, and then my stomach sank and I froze on the spot, biting my lip and facing away from them.

He'd been pointing at me.

Might he have noticed me, staring at Eomer? I tried not to think of the consequences it would induce, and went to take up an ale pitchure and pour to anyone's hearts content. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears, something that happened only when I was most unnerved. My cheeks were flushed, and as I poured a dwarf his last mug of ale before he passed out, I found that occupying myself with something other than Eomer- helped my shame recede.

The night was young still, and it was not long even then as the man and Eomer approached me. I recognized the rugged man as Adeumos of Gondor, a warlord just as Eomer was. His eyes were volatile and unwelcoming, though they seemed to snake across me with a hunters keenness. I did not look back, for fear of two things.  
One- the man and what he would say.  
Two- Eomer. What was he thinking, as his drunk friend dragged them to the girl that had her back to them.

"My, my," The pearly words came from the man in driblets, "How quaint. A woman of the south. In all my time, I never thought I'd live to see a wild mans daughter serving Rohan." He then issued a hiss of chuckle that vibrated up my spine, making me shiver.

Knowing I could not refuse any longer, I turned on my heel, facing the man and keeping my eyes on him alone. I could not bear to look Eomer in the eyes, for fear that he would figure out my secret, but more importantly I was a cowardess. Strong in my fleeing, master in stealth and being unheard. And since that was what I spent my entire life becoming, but hating it all the while, my gut curled for the lack of my bravery as I felt Eomer's eyes on my own, and I looked down.

"Might I pour you some Ale, good sir." I pitched on a rogue tone towards Adeumos, my eyes plastered on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eomer's brows furrowing deeper, lining him even more with something that I'd once called stress. I felt sick, wondering why that was his reaction to my voice, even directed to another person. Why, oh, why did he detest me so much? I curled my fingers round the pitchure, feeling very cold.

"Certainly," the man said with a brogue, and held out his empty mug with an obviously amused expression, as if he were enjoying my subjected awkwardness in ignoring his commentary.

I poured skillfully, and then for the first time, I let my eyes drift to Eomer's face. I was surprised and had to force my tongue to the roof of my mouth before my jaw fell slack. He had been staring at me the entire time, taking in my actions as if I were vermin. I gulped down waves of electricity coursing through me, pulling myself together to ask him the one question I had to ask him, ever.

"And you, my Lord?" I asked, holding my nerves responsible for my voice fluctuations, and even more so I blamed them for my shaking hands as I poured him ale.

I bowed low to him, and waited for them to leave me in my shameful peace, alone once again to re-examine and echo his expressions and very being within the confines and comforts of my mind.

Before they were gone, Eomer raised his glass to me with his eyebrows lifted, mocking me as he guzzled down the ale I'd poured him.

This was the first of our introduction, or rather the first night I'd ever been within three feet of him. I longed for him, and in my bed in the maids quarters, listening to Faramir and Eowyn sneak to see one another, hearing their hushed tones and loving voices, I ached from every fiber in my body. I was cursed to be alone forever, and to that I was certain. Jealousy can be either a white flag or a disease within someone, and for me the jealousy that consumed me flared around Eowyn, and though she was oblivious, I felt hollow and wanted to tell her my longings. What would she think? What would anyone say?

More importantly...what would he think of the lowly maidservant, too weather-beaten and damned to defend herself?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO:

Three nights had passed in the week of celebration, and I was weary with fatigue of longing, with not but glimpses of Eomer throughout the past few days. Eowyn suspected something, but in my feeble but strong attempts at hiding my true self from the world, she let me go almost immediately, as if pinpointing someone on their unhappiness was too much work for her. She, of course, had much more to be concerned of.

Oftentimes she would drag me along, as a sort of chaperone for herself and Faramir. It was all thanks to Eomer and his protective nature, she'd blamed him, and I went stony as I often did when his face crossed my mind. She believed she did not need one, and as the days passed, I believed it too. She would do anything she liked, in front of anyone.

In a more graphic section of my day, there was one moment when he touched her hair and she ran her white fingers down the side of his face. I imagined doing that to Eomer, his face relaxed and relieved of his mandatory duty, his pain washed away. But there was no picture to comfort me- because I had hardly seen Eomer smile.

I vowed, in the next week I would catch him off guard, sighting his smile and treasuring it. My heart churned with the simple idea of having the image. And then I blushed. I was simply haphazardly, enraptured by the man and he seemed to loath me in all respects. What deliverance would I gain, from another sinful image packed into the memories of my mind?

And then it came again, that overwhelming sense of loneliness and despair. Though, I would get that sight of him, and weather or not I wanted it- it came to me. And angels smile, something so rare and innocent that I felt my entire body weaken.

I remember it clearly. He had drunk a lot of ale, and was standing in the center of a people like a beacon; his chest puffed out and proud, his tongue loose. I could not hear his words over the din of the celebration hall, but out of habit I always glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. He admitted himself a restrained smile as he finished a long sentence, whereas the entire crowd flocked about him roared with hysteria.

His smile was almost guilty, as if he'd spoken too boldly. Though a King must feel he can do as he pleases, I doubted that he felt just that. He looked so stiff, so filled with inner turmoil that adjusted to a stony top layer, smoothing over the smile that had made me hold my breath.

I stared, though I could not help it.

His very being was something of intoxication, and I did not know how openly I was staring. How direct my eyes were plastered on his eyes, his body.

He looked up though, and my eyes were the first that met his. And following naturalities, and the many protocol-ic rules that had been sewn into my seams, I swiveled on my toes, turning my back to him once again.

I did not long to see how he reacted. I did not want to know if he hated me as much as I believed. I feared him, and yet he was my one utmost desire. My pure and chaotic infatuation. I exhaled heavily, feeling my face burn, and my body tremble. How odd he must think me as...a maid simply staring at him and turning away. Many of the servants never even looked their Lord or Lady in the eye. Though Lady Eowyn was an exception to me, as we were closer to friends than anything I'd ever had, I suppose Eomer held a spell over me that made me incapable of remembering not to stare.

That night I slept with dreams of darkness and anguish. I could not shift the foreboding pressure that stamped a fiery warning through me, something I felt irritated to feel. I could not shake the great mouth of desperation opening up to swallow me. I was lost, still a ghost, still alone.

That morning, I rose when the sun was just hitting the mountains, creating a defined mist low within the court. I shivered into a cloak, lifting the hood up and obscuring my face. I could not sleep. I was filled with insomnia, and found myself slinking down the halls unchecked- no one was awake as of yet, only the occasional servant skirting down the halls fulfilling duties, cooking, cleaning and such.

I supposed I should be doing the same, but my heart called me to the tower.

I stepped up the cold stoned steps, feeling my way up the shadowed spiral staircase, the light above- my destination. My heart ached with emptiness, and I clutched my chest as I reached the top, staggering over and out of breath, fresh tears heating the corners of my eyes.

I raced forth, tossing my hood back and staring off the edges of the tower, taking in the panoramic views so high up in the sky, Rohans beauty regal and rugged all the same. I stared to the south, wondering if my mother or father were looking this way as well, knowing that I was here, and living a haunted life?

"I would think, it is too early for servants to be in the tower." A rugged, bold, honey sleek voice perpetrated my ears, and I whipped around, adrenaline cursing through me. No. This could not be. Had I stepped right past him? How could I have been so foolish? He was sitting there, to the right of the stairs, a square piece of quilt hanging between his pointer and thumbs. I looked to the ground.

"Forgive me my Lord, I did not see you." I stuttered brilliantly, giving a new name to a woman without a backbone. I almost winced, feeling desperately hopeless. Why could I not speak strongly, look him in the eyes? Confess me feelings even? I wiped my cheeks as hurriedly as I could, and felt my face burning…once again.

"Come. Sit." He ordered, his voice straining so tantalizingly and his eyes locked on the piece of quilt as I felt my heart palpitating crazily beyond my ribcage, giving my skin a tingling feeling, and my muscles adrenaline. I could not believe what was happening, so assumed it to be a dream. Everything about me was hazy, and thus I sat beside him as close as I dared, following his orders and remaining silent, staring into the open sky.

"Early mornings…" The words hung in the air moist as he breathed out, looking about the skies, "You are familiar with them just as I." He stated, still not looking at me. My jaw dropped, and I felt as if I might curl into a ball and hide my face from him. But I assumed I looked stony, cold, and possibly devoid of any thought. A phantom.

I could not find the words to any type of response, and I let my hands fall into my lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him messing with the quilt piece, tousling it between his fingers. We sat there not speaking, until he seemed to be quite uncomfortable.

"What brought you here," He muttered.

I was taken aback, my throat swollen from the tears I was holding back. If he were not here, I would have been sobbing. I felt my spine tickle as wind whipped our hair and cloaks, and I cringed as he spoke. In all honesty, to an unknowing eye it might have seemed as if I were disgusted with him, but it was only what the severances of my obsession had turned me into.

"The sun." I said, my voice shaky and timid.

Why I had said that, I had not a clue. It seemed the only idea I could coax up before I spilled my heart and all its entrails across the stony floor of the tower. The sun. Yes…he was the sun to me. And although he was something like light, and justness coiled together, but as I suddenly took in the amazing sight of sunrise before me, I stared into my lap once again. Feeling hopeless.

I did not see his face, only his hands stop working the piece of quilt. He threw it on the ground. Almost as if casting away a shred of pain, and he rose, and left. I could still hear the patting of his footsteps cascading down the stairs as I sat there alone, trembling. What was it that I had done, as of now? I was a woman in desperation. Tears licked my eyes and poured down incessantly. I did not utter a sound.

What I did do, was pick up the piece of quilt, feeling the satiny fabric between my fingers, and then I put it, hesitantly into my pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:::

The next day I went about my work without entering the great hall. I took my time sweeping the chambers and scrubbing the floors. I hadn't been around people the entire day until Eowyn found me, craning her neck around every hallway corner, and spotting me hunched over the floors.

"Maerien!" she almost skipped forth, "I have been searching for you for hours," She seemed breathless, excited.

"We've been specially invited to Gondor for Aragorn's coronation!" Her words were like ice compared to the heated thoughts that had filled my head for hours on end, undying and singular. Her words were cool against my ears, and I stood flicking the water from my fingers.

"Aragorn?" I asked, remembering the man that had visited for a time. Lady Eowyn had fancied him. She was sweet for him, and I could tell the way she said his name, even if Faramir was her love at this moment, she longed for Aragorn as well. I could see that she was being selfish, loving two men.

"Yes- we leave tomorrow morning." She informed me eccentrically, and I tried to appear as if I were excited, while my heart was bruised and barely beating within me. She couldn't have seen past my mask of pallor, for she smiled licentiously and took my hand in hers.

"Will you not help me pack?" She questioned.

I smiled with what I could manage of my face, contorting the muscles in my face to something that appeared peacefully eager. Nodding resignedly, she then clutched my hand tightly and pulled me down the halls. Pealing past other servants, we raced down the halls, our gowns billowing out behind us. Of course, no one noticed me, they only gave sweet expressions towards Eowyn.

Striding down the halls, there came Faramir, with heavy, purposeful steps towards Eowyn. She stopped, letting my hand fall. She swayed on a broken action, and all at once I knew they had had some sort of falling out. I held my breath. He stopped before her, pleading with her, "Please, Eowyn listen to me…" She tried walking past him, but he grabbed her shoulder, and she showed defined irritation.

He followed her with pleading tones, whispers, and she then stopped purposefully, her hand shooting up in the air, a motion for him to cease his proceedings. His face buffeted from rage, to sorrow, and then settled into a gritty paleness. He whisked off, defeated and basking in apparent misery.

At first, I did not know what to do, until Eowyn broke into a sprint to her chambers. What could possibly be the issue, I had not a varied clue. I tore after her, lifting my skirts to keep up just enough to see her barge through her doors. Once I was within the room, I shut the door with care behind me, and went to her, where she had sat herself on the edge of her bed, tears alight in her eyes.

Immediately I forced myself unto auto-mothering mode. The other half of me set in place for others, other than being self-centered and tangibly possessed by my internal problems. I knelt at her feet, holding her hands in my own and staring into her pooling eyes with forced and almost overwrought compassion. Though my own heart was bruised and hardly beating beyond my ribcage, I found strength in aiding others.

"Tell me, my lady, what happened?" I coaxed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

She trembled for a few, tear repressed moments before she swallowed them and blew out a breath of fierce, haughty anguish, "He- he asked me." She whispered as if death itself were haunting her.

I knelt confused, feeling quite cut off from any rational knowledge. Had she not wanted him to propose? Did she not love him? I smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and chose my words carefully. Though I longed for my own romantic dramas, and she so consistently was handed them, I trailed along the brim of jealously, but then understood somewhat of the tragedy she was afflicted for.

"What…" I searched for words, "What exactly…is troubling you, my lady?" I questioned, trying to make sense of her pain.

"I had wanted this…for so long. Up until it happened, I am scared and know not what to do, Maerien." She spoke earnestly, staring down into my eyes. I nodded, feeling unatoned and my heart fluttered. So. She was fearful of the effects? My eyes swiveled to the floor, and I hid my opposition well. She was fearful of love, whilst other women in the world were dying of loneliness or jaded love. At least she had it. I ground my teeth together, looking up at her again with a smile.

"Those that seek an answer will find it." I spoke wisdom that I had read before, "Await the day and do not waste love," I insisted. She shook her anguish away suddenly, and stood, leaving me on the floor. Clinging to the drapes of her bedding, I stood then, rounding to face her. To understand as I so often was not allowed.

"Now I will see Aragorn at his coronation," She ranted, "And I will be engaged." The idea settled within her, and I nodded, forgetting the rest of the conversation, and spacing out as her words lingered like plumes in the air. I helped servants pack our things, and though I was the only one that was to attend as a servant, I sat beside Eowyn in a carved cart. Ahead Eomer sat with his straight posture, dressed in traveling garments, upon a horse. They were tighter across his chest, and as he moved about his muscles were defined and taut beneath his over clothes. I had to stare at the skies, as my face reddened as I braved to imagine him in such a state.

As we made the trek to Gondor, the sun seemed to slip behind the hills more quickly than ever before. We camped beneath the stars, setting up tents and fixing up huge fires. Men and women of the court sat about fires, telling stories and singing songs. As the men retired to their tents the women stayed about, talking with wild tongues and laughing voices, dainty and demure but holding ferocity all the same as powerful, female lions. At one point, they began a chain of singing.

Over the din of women, Eowyn stopped them all, "Here, let us listen to Maerien sing! For she is the best in all of Rohan!"

Her words made my heart skip a beat. I had only sang once, humming within her chambers, yet she had now declared me the greatest singer? I sat there demurely, resting my hands with Eomer's patchwork piece knotted between my fingers, into my lap. Yes. I had kept the quilt piece, and it gave me comfort, almost as a beacon of hope for my future. Though I could not say why.

"No, please." I spoke sweetly, declining her order. Yet she pushed me from my seat, clapping. All for good fun, as she'd vindicated her point. I stood there, ghostly, and smiled hesitantly. I had not an idea of what to sing under pressure. All I knew were old folk songs, so strung up a high note, and glided through the beginning of a lullaby I'd once known…once been sung to long ago. With limited memory of my mother, this was one of the only threads of her I could remember. My voice spilled into the night, and everyone fell silent. When I stopped, I realized I was not giving any notice to the world about me, and the women were staring in serious awe. But what was more, there was Eomer, standing outside the ring of the women's fire, his eyes locked on me.

Eowyn tore her eyes from me to acknowledge her brother, "Yes brother, Eomer? What do you need?"

He did not reply so quickly, but seemed to be sifting through many emotions. "I need to speak with you." He said, an obvious lie on a thread. Though maybe it was only I, who could see past his well constructed voice. His voice low, tickling my spine with its vibrato. I shivered, feeling my lungs contract and become devoid of any oxygen.

I stared at the ground, feeling limp. My heart a ball of fire lodged in my throat. My face seared with embarrassment, and though Eowyn left reluctantly with her brother, I felt his eyes on my back and knew they were there. I glanced over my shoulder, my black hair falling in loosened spirals down my back, finding Eomer looking with heavily lidded eyes at my back. My breath quickened. Had he heard me? What did he think? I traced my performance back in my mind, and felt shame bubble up within me.

"Ah, the dear is smitten," An elderly maid spoke my fear to the world, exposing my secret to its naked truth. I shook my head sincerely, still standing before the crowd. Girls giggled precociously, and I struggled to find the words to refute what she had said.

"You are wrong, Tyryntha," I told her with wordless desperation clinging to my fabrication. But what was I to say? That I had not a heart, and the glance was a simple, glance? I denied the possibility, all the while my heart was a snake within me, leading me in tempting routes of telling others my secrets.

"I am sure," She cackled with an all knowing eyebrow raise. Defeated and shameful, I sat on the edge of a log primly, holding my hands out to the fire.

"We all have felt it, my dear, such is a maids life. Until they meet their fat cow of a husband!" The words bubbled from her lips and I rolled my eyes to the heavens, as if she could crack me. Was I that obvious? I bit my lip in horror, figuring out why Eomer detested me so. He knew I was smitten with him, and I had not an idea that he knew. My gut plummeted within me, and I felt dread and irritation with myself round up into one giant bubble of hatred towards myself. How could I be…this stupid?

I left for Lady Eowyn's tent before she returned, and when she did I was lying upon the mat, facing the wall. She assumed I was asleep, and blew out the candles, without so much as a word to me. But as I turned over onto my other side, I thought I distinctly saw a triumphant smile tilting her lips.

Needless to say, come morning I was up and restless. I exited Eowyn's tents silently, feeling the dew of morning dust my skin with moisture. I loved the mornings, and half expected to see Eomer and his troubled look, hunched on a log. But no, he was not there. I was disappointed, and began the breakfast preparations. Slowly other servants made their way to stoke the fires and help arrange a breakfast fit for regality.

After the breakfast, camp was repacked together and we set out again, under the shade of drapes in Eowyn's litter. I was the only one to accompany her Lady in such a royal place, and as I'd done so since youth, I viewed it as common.

"Maerien." My name was called, and I turned to face Eowyn as she snapped me from my wandering mind.

"I have a proposition for you," The warmth in her voice was welcoming, and there was a sly creaking in her smile, "Would you accept the honor of singing at Aragorn's coronation?"

Instantly there was a vision of myself standing tall, issuing beautiful music from beyond my faded being. The crowd was vast and apt with attention, their ears hanging on to my every tone, and at its end, they applauded vigorously. And then it was gone, and I was sitting in front of Eowyn, a silent statue.

"Forgive me, I do not know what you mean my Lady." I supplemented my answer.

"Sing, sing for his coronation. You were gifted at birth for this soul purpose, Maerien. I do not know if you are able to hear yourself, but believe me- everyone was in awe of you." Her compliments reached me diluted and filled with encouragement. I had not a bone in me that desired to be in front of thousands of people, yet the idea was possibly appealing. Did I dare allow myself to feel as if I could actually proceed with this thought? It was almost sinful, a brilliant plot unfolding around me. I had always adored singing, almost as much as the rampant chaos of secrecy involving my tangled feelings for Eomer. It had been my outlet for pain, as long as I have known. Since I was a baby, I remember my mother singing lullabies and hymns, humming them into the void of my eardrumbs, their resonance rebounding within my body, filling me with a sense of fullness. Ever since I left the southlands on my tenth birthday, I had become more and more empty. Now, a shell. If I took this opportunity, would my mother be proud? My answer came only for her sake, and no one in the world could change my choice, no matter how badly I hated myself for forcing it.

"You honor me, Eowyn," I spoke with a newfound cunning, "If you insist that I shall, I will not decline."

She simply grinned and hugged me. After that, there was talk of Faramir and Aragorn. Her heartfelt dilemma. I listened with revulsion, pretending to be intrigued, all the while feeling drained and ready to sleep yet again. I loved lady Eowyn as my sister, and when you feel as sisters with someone, you get exhausted and do not feel wrong when you want to leave. But it was only midday, and as she droned on, my eyes became heavy.

It was evening when we arrived in Gondor, and the preparations for the return of the king were set in order. I was told that my place was to be sitting with Eowyn, Faramir, Eomer, Aragorn, and his woman elf Arwin. I felt shadowed as I sit among them, a foreign and gastly face, something of a death fairy. Lost and sitting where all might see and seek me out as a failure. The day was hot, and humid, causing a sheen across my cheekbones and forehead.

I hardly listened to the pre-ordial speeches, up until the last song Aragorn himself had sang, and then he himself had beckoned me to the platform. My heart seemed to skip a beat, sweat poring from me. No. Please. Anything but in this situation…I had not realized how soon it had come upon me, the suddenness of my role in his coronation. What was I thinking, that it might have never come? Up until now I was clear headed and fine, and alas I felt if I stood my bones might break. Eomer was watching, the King and his Queen had eyes on me. All of the people of Gondor awaited…a vast sea of dead speech. I was alone, singular.

I said a silent prayer, and stood, my legs full of jelly. I dared not even spare a glance in Eomer's direction. I knew, realistically, I would faint if I saw him staring. So I sang. I sang from the bitter entrails of my being, my notes high and acute, low and soft. I sang in the language of man, my voice resounding across the crowds. It was a togetherness song, Gondor's anthem. On the last note, my low guttural song cast a haunting, and hope on the same time across the crowd. They applauded, and I blushed to the very core of me, their excitement alive and raucous in my ears.

Returning to my seat, I had allowed myself one small glance. He was not frowning, which puzzled me. Everyone else was smiling decadently, and yet he was misplaced of anything. I stared at my feet, as I was so often used to, and Eowyn whispered words of amazement into my ears, but I did not hear them. I was proud, in a sense, for once in my life. Though Eomer did not smile in favor, I did not care.

"Thank you, Eowyn, for that remarkable opportunity." I said on a sleek voice.

She issued a laugh and then whispered in my ear, "In all honesty, Maerien, it was not I, but Eomer, that told me to ask for your talent here today."


	4. Chapter 4

After Aragorn's coronation, there had been an extravagent feast filled with delightful music and more types of cuisine I had ever seen in my life. The meats were dripping with tart, sweet, and spicy sauces, and the fruits and vegitables displayed about in huge gold bowls from all corners of the world. There was wine, ale, and beer every few people along the narrow dining table seating only the innermost of Aragorn's people.

I was famished, and ate alongside Eowyn. I sat cheerless, eating small delicate bites until I was almost bursting. Though her words from after I had sang was kept like a thorn in my side, always stinging and replaying within the back of my mind.

"It was not I, but Eomer." The words were disturbing, and though I might have felt a great spire of intrigue well up inside me, there was more than that. How could I face the man, as he was to thank for my exalted preformance? I sat between Eowyn, other men and women, set directly across from Eomer. My mind buzzed with heartrending luxuries, and I listened to him speak with others, his voice echoing in my mind so that I might treasure each and every situation he was present in. I felt as a child must, hanging onto the little things, which more than often meant nothing, but always meant the world to the child.

I drank my wine with a sullen expression, never looking at Eomer for the remainder of the dinner, though I listened with a ferocity I could not explain. I could not place my feeling. Was it shame? Was it that I disheartened? Was it timidity? I could not capture the intensity of my emotions into one, and this pained me to the point of lamentation. I wept silent cries, drinking my wine and feeling so lost, as a girl usually does when she likes a man to the core of her.

Should I thank him, and gain his gaze upon me, I might crumble beneath it. Yet the idea became more and more inviting as the night pressed on. My wine made my head feel clouded and careless, and my limbs tingled warmly. I could not remember being this drunk since youth, and as I swallowed the fiery liquid, I finally lost control of my eyes and their wanderings.

I stared with aspiring eyes at Eomer, who sat back in his chair surveying others with a relaxed expression, joining in the conversation ever so often, only when he was called upon. He was…beautiful. A masculine image of perfection. Though, what I realized was that he did not have anything perfect about him, he was simply perfect for me. He had to know. Could he not feel my burning for him, stretching out as my invisible appandages, coaxing him to look at me?

Then, as if my prayers were answered, he glanced at me, finding me looking at him. My breath was bated, and my heart quivered dangerously. My mouth watered. I hungered for him, and it was apparent as I did not look away, growing more and more brave with the heavy intoxication I was administrating unto myself. Though everyone around seemed to be living beyond the hazy lines just as I, he seemed to be the only one yet to cross the line of drunk.

We sat there, staring across the narrow table into one anothers eyes. Though I was drunk, I let out a coy smile, and flirtaciously looked down. He seemed startled, and simply looked at me, watched me with unwavering eyes. I had to look away. I could not stare into his mahogany eyes too long, for fear of entering my crazed mannerisms. He would surely be the end of my sanity, this man with his swoon-inducing expressions and delectable persona. I felt passion creep, and I had to stifle it, feeling rather giggly.

"Eomer!" Eowyn snapped from my side, calling him not to stare. Within myself I howled with victory. If he was entranced by me, that was all I needed. All I needed. What I wanted…was much more than I am wanting to form into words. Needless to say, you can understand a girls feelings. I had triumphed, and Eowyn shot me a look I had never seen upon her face, yet I simply cast aside her warnings. Of what, I thought? Oh yes. If Eomer was caught staring intently at the 'maid-servant', there might be talk. Well let them talk, leave us be- I thought with brutality. The morning after, of course this scene was nothing.

As some men and women stepped off for the night, Eomer excused himself. I sat there perplexed and enraged, wanting to be amongst him. I stood, myself, not knowing why, or where I would go. The wine had made me extremely dizzy, and I stumbled from behind my chair. I recall Eowyn calling my name as I sauntered after the man I loved, but I paid her no heed.

In real life, you can assume what panic and horrors I would be undertaking with myself. Even now as I think back upon my reckless behavior, following him down the hall until I caught up with him, I feel my heart jumping and my stomach clenching. How foolish was I, yet I followed through with my desires. I went after him.

"Thank you, my lord." I said, my voice cracking on that last vowel.

Eomer turned round in a gracefulness only men hold, and his eyebrows raised, as if he had not heard me, or was amused, "What?"

"Wasn't it you, that asked Eowyn if I would sing this day?" I spoke, stepping lightly, ever more heartbreakingly close to him.

He returned to his pained, morose expression and nodded, "Thank all the men in their own part."

I was confused, what did he mean? He obviously could see my struggle, and was about to brandish another well thought out set of statements, but I stopped him. I breathed heavily, staring into his eyes, very close to him now, just wanting to feel him hold me. That was it…

"And what does that mean?" I spoke with heightened senses, and swayed on my feet, falling forward. He caught me in his arms, his muscled arms, and their strong, built, bulkiness wrapped round me for a split second, rearranging my stance so that I stood on my own two feet. At this point, there was nothing in the world that could stop me from reacting the way I did.

Tears streamed down my face, and I wished to cling to him, to feel his strength and security wrapped round me once more. My heart might have burst if I was not drunk to a capacity that rendered me unbenownst to myself, obviously an entirely different woman. The tears were something I wished I could stop, but they kept flowing, and I choked up.

"You drunk." He stated, turning and leaving me to crumple in the hallway. But I did not, I bit my lip and sucked in the intense feeling of panic, alarm palpitating through my already useless body. I stood there, feeling more lost than ever, knowing that he hated me beyond any urchin creature on this earth, but he stopped, just as I placed my hand on the wall for support. Disgusted with myself…my tears. I wallowed in the apitamy of what was sincerely, a crestfallen misery so beyond anything I had ever bore, I felt my stomach liven with nausea.

" I will escort you to Lady Eowyn's chambers." He spoke low, as emotions flooded through me.

He sighed through his nose when I did not answer in my heartsick state. He would never long for me as I longed for him, and the thought of it blew my innards apart. I shook my head but he said, "Yes, yes, yes." In a droning manner, almost drearily, contrary to my shaking head. I just wanted to be alone, and when he reached out to hold my arm and guide me down the hall, I felt my stomach clench. His hands were warm, and soft despite the years of weaponry and horseriding. I slagged alongside him, trying to contain my animosity, as well as the lingering prowess that had sent me after him. What had I expected, I thought bitterly.

We walked slowly, and I made a point to remember his hand on my arm, the way he lead me as if I was a child. Though it was nothing like a man did to a woman, every fiber in my body delighted in it. These fragments of awkward scene would keep me alive and cheerful the next months.

"Remember you are not to drink so much, next time." He said as a father might say to his daughter very tiredly, but the glance that he gave me was nothing like fatherly. It was filled with pain, the pain I so longed to rid him of. His eyebrows furrowed, he then looked straight ahead. Inwardly, this moment and that of before made me glow, but I was sick all the same. Yet again, maybe that was the wine. Maybe everything I saw that night was my imagination, you never really can be so sure when there is alcohol involved.

As we reached the door to the chambers, I stood before the door, recognizing what I had done, and as a wave of grief overtook me once again, I pulled it open.

"Speak of this to no one." He told me as I stood, frail and despondent in the threshold, lost of words. What did he take me for? Someone that adored her shame spattered across the walls? It was not until morning time that I realized how he could have got that idea. I had drank. I had openly cried. Feeling that I had to redeem myself, I bowed low to him, staring at the stone floors for a few moments until I raised up once again.

"Forgive me, my Lord Eomer, I am not in the right…frame of mind," I said dutifully, and crept to the confines of the room shrouded in black, shutting the door in his face to hide again. If I ever uttered a hearbeat of a word to anyone, they would know my overbearing obsession, and that was something no one would ever know of. It was mine, mine alone. I wanted to curl up and pity myself in the patheticness of what I had done…but how could I? I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling feeling more lost and dizzy than ever, wishing I had never felt for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

At dawn, we were awoken. My head pounded as it was still processing the remnants of alcohol. It seemed that overnight I had transformed, not only in one way, but two diverse and very timely positions. At first light I was welcomed into the hearing room, a private audience sought out by Arwen, the queen. I felt drained in her incandecent, elven perfection, standing there before her as she sat in her chair with feet that belonged.

She told me that she wished to bring me to her own court, as a singer. She said that I would be given musical lessons, a heavy tutor in all the arts, and history, until I was a respectable woman of nobler birthing. She'd instructed in her breathy voice, "misfortunate birthright can be the fate or destiny of your own life, transform yourself as you desire."

These words hit me with a coolness like none other, almost as I had been slapped from my zombie like person, and felt the gripping world around me, and what I had been occupying my days with. I felt shame, remorse, and although my obsession clung in threads to my heart, as I spoke with Arwen personally, she seemed to unlock the secrets to my heart, womanly secrets that I had not even known were there.

The startling thing, was that I did not have to speak. Just listening to her resourceful, honest and hopeful words blared through me, opening up an entire new visionary world. Would singing, really be my opportunity? She spoke of life, of leaving the past where it shall. Though I never quite understood why the Queen chose me to speak with, and give strength to, I never knew.

For a split second, I could imagine being the court singer, alive with zest with pink cheeks and full ideals met and kept safely beyond the reach of servanthood again. But my minds eye switched to what I could be, yet then another vision clouded that one. It was a child…a small, running boy. I gasped, and Arwen inclined her face towards mine. I stood, my hands shaking and my jaws clamped tightly as to ward off the vision. Yet it was servere, searing across my sight. For a moments time, all I could think of was Eomer, and my obsession for him. Until, Arwen touched my shoulder.

"Choose the wiser path." She told me, and then ushered me for my leave. I trampled down the hallways fanatically, my eyes alive with untold fright, my hands raising my skirts so that I might walk a little faster, bouncing forth like a dog bound upon a chain. I needed to speak with Eowyn.

Once I reported to our chambers, I'd enlightened Eowyin on Arwen's invitation, and Eowyn's face cascaded to a dark, pained thing, "First Aragorn…and now my best friend?" She spoke angrily, "What kind of woman would do such a thing?" Her voice was filled with ghosts and ghouls, a lamenters ballad. Yet I feircely told her I'd declined, holding onto what was left of normalities. I did not need more pain in my ring of sufferage. And just as Eomer had said not to speak of it to anyone, I found that my mind wandered less to the night before, and all shameful feelings were lost amongst the newfound job Eowyn had bestowed upon me, with Eomer's approval of course. Instead of singing for Gondor, I was to be given the same contract in Rohan, with wages and everything. The thought of it sparked flames within my limbs, and beyond my sallow expression and weary exterior, I was kindled with a newness, something that gave me, Maerien of the South, purpose.

Upon our arrival back unto Rohan, I settled into the primordial days of my career, hardly glancing at Eomer. I could still feel the prickle on my neck when I felt his gaze upon me, and though it still sent shivers up my spine, I was newfounded. I ached, but mastered it. I longed, but crushed it beneath the heels of my purpose. I mastered these techniques all the while I stayed in Rohan as a singer, the main attraction along with a developed dance to go with my song. It stayed quiet, my infatuation, until five months after we arrived back in the castle.

When a voice is too loud, you tell it to hush, and be still. When a voice is too silent, you persuade it from its hiding place. And when a voice is silent for so long, it is like a trumpet upon return, blaring through ones ears, reminding them of their past. Such was the days of my life. For five solid months I avoided him. I avoided his glances, his meetings, I avoided checking his schedule. I purposely slept late just to rid my body of his essence, so combined between my own seams that the thought of him was nature's smell on my body. I scrubbed myself clean of him, and though I knew I was being foolish, as there had never been anything between us, I found myself praying to be free of my love. Under a black sky I would race to the tower now, only allowing myself the peace and succession of being under the stars rather than the sunrise.

I strode about the castle on whim, now a member of the court. Respected for my songs and dances. They told me that if my voice could be captured in an earthly product, it would be light, with spots of wind.

Almost every time we held celebrations at Rohan, I would sing and dance for them all. Eomer was often gone, which left my work appealingly simple. But when he was there, the old feelings crept back like black onto my white armor of confidence. If I still loved him, did that make me unwhole? I skipped past the wounds that were left gaping within me, without returning to them to save them from…well, him. Though all I had now, I owed to him. For it was he who had suggested I sing for the return of the King, and thus set on a furnace of fortune thereafter.

Though, I could not help but notice Eomer's absence. It was a slight pinch, where there used to be catastrophe swinging off of every edge of me. And the only times he returned were filled with deserted halls a fierce utterances of war. Once I'd been informed, by Eowyn, I was shocked, my eyes set in one stare for a very long time. Eomer…the thought of him dying, after five months of a silenced heart, sealed away for that time, created a volcanic eruption within me. Emotions splattered everywhere, my heart a great void where I used to have so much strength.

No. Please do not go to war, I pleaded in my mind as I lay in my bed, my throat choking on broken words and actions. It was as if suddenly, knowing that he could die tilted my world of confidence and liveliness, into a twisted contagion of desolate grief. I spent more of my time confined to my room. Lady Eowyn had asked me what the reason was, and I said I had been feeling ill.

One thing could not escape my question, and that was- would he be okay. I did not think of the consequences if he died at war. I only sat alone, reading, writing songs and holding on to false hope. I fed off of the false hope for a month, until there came a visitor to my chambers. It was midday, and I was having a small lunch with Eowyn, when three men clad in thanking armor entered like wild sign of war. I did not recognize them all at first, until they brought the helmets from their heads.

"Lady Maerien," Eomer spoke quickly, forcefully, as he had done his entire life since birth. His voice was a sweet memoir, and a thousand memories exploded within me like berries in a mouth. He was cloyingly wondrous, so set in time as a rugged handsome, his chiseled face now angrier than it had been years ago. What this war had given us all, I held my breath to receive.

I nodded demurely in his direction, showing that I had heard him, and stood and bowed, "My Lord?" I spoke clearer than I had five months ago, and the shudder in my voice was not heard only now because it came later, when I could brace myself for the spell to take hold. As of now, it hit me in the stomach like a knife. Was he simply here to torment me? I awaited his reponse, glancing at Eowyn and staring off for the steady fear of meeting his eyes. They were still too overbearing, a constant reminder of my past, and the mysteries that had seduced me to a smitten ghost.

"You are required in the meeting hall. As of now," He spoke dynamically, his voice a powerful declaration across the rooms.

"Brother, what had happened?" He simply glared over his shoulder as Eowyn pled to hear. But no, it was only I allowed. I promised Eowyn on a low note, that I would tell her everything, as I always had. I followed after them, their sauntering backs to me.

Now is where my heart would tremble, my breathing become hard to pace. I watched the back of his head, and his body as he moved forward with his manly walk, barging through the hall doors and leaving one of the men flanking him, to open the door for me. If there was anything I'd learned in Rohan, it was that being personally invited to a meeting, having to do with the war, was an honor or curse. There could only be so many reasons for my presence here, and as I stood tall, I felt myself shrink back as Eomer threw a map onto the table, pointing to the southern most region.

"Your people," He stated, "Have invaded our borders, claiming war upon Rohan."

As he spoke, my head swam, and all feelings hushed away and slicked over with my other life of singing, rebounding within me, suddenly deafening. I wanted to walk right up to him, and hug his neck. But when his words reached my ears, I grew ruthlessly sour, all fantasies of him holding me, washed away by the thought. My so called, people, were invading? If they were, then why?

"What would you have me do?" I spoke tightly, bid by my desires that crept along the shadowy crevices of my heart. I could not yield to them…yet as I stared at him, I supposed I must haved looked like a woman with diamonds for eyes, her tongue lolling out, because of my sudden internal turmoil, a catastrophe for my five months of solitiude. And now they wasted away, only ashes before the exalted pillar of my obsession. Everything within me jolted, and my heart was lost amid a thousand beats per minute.

"They are claiming that we steal, rape, and slaughter their daughers. They are demanding every female of the south to return to them, or else they wage war upon us. Rohan is in no shape to do so!" He bellowed.

I trembled within my skin, feeling as a ghost might once again. But what was more, was his anger, pulsating through him like violent outbreak, and I held my chin high. What was this hellcast life I was issued unto? As soon as my feelings for the one I loved returned, I find that he is angered by some sort of charade followed through with by my homelands. I grit my teeth, angered by his hostility, sorrow ripping through the front of me in torrents down my chest. I swelled with fervent dejection, but cast my feelings aside for the suddenly burning anger that filtered through my once patched heart, now wrenched open wide with the same wounds as I'd harbored so long ago.

"And you mean to tell me," I stared level eyed, into his own, my anger getting the better of me, "That you wish to round up all the women and send them off to their deaths?"

Was that so much better Eomer? As long as your precious kingdom wasn't burdened, for surely she cannot handle justice and you would never think of risking anything, no less your little horses prancing freely across the terrains, you'd rather spend lives? My life? I choked, feeling faint. These were my deathly thoughts towards him, and I stared into his angered face, my cheeks searing with red as I'd spoken out of place.

"Would a man of Rohan do such a thing?" He defended his honor, rounding on me as if I were a man and not a woman, standing there frail and still poised to strike yet again. He was in my face now, anger besting the both of us.

"If he thought spending lives of those he had not a care in the world about would benefit him!" I shrieked. Immedietly I fell silent, my eyes swiveling to the floor. He was silent, fuming with vexation, as I could see. Yet he held his tongue, and walked a few feet away, his hands on his hips.

"Leave us." Eomer called to the men within the hall, and of course I stepped back a few paces. I had gone too far, and suddenly, I was drenched with panic. What if he was abusive? He had never been with a woman, and the only way I would know was from my life here. I stood there, clasping my hands together as my heart dipped and beat pounds against my ribs. I felt sick, watching the men leave.

As the last door closed, he turned on his heel, and strode towards me, anger encapturing every muscle in his face. I doubled over with fear, and stepped back, knocking into a vase propped against the wall.

I held up my hands protectively, shielding my face, "No! Don't touch me!" My voice was pleading, and I covered my eyes as to not see him. That was the first. But his footsteps stopped suddenly, and they switched from pureposeful and heavy, to soft steps. I could sense him near, his heat and the metal of his armor filling my nostrils with his scent I'd so longed for before this moment.

I felt his hand, gentle and guiding, lead my hands away from my eyes. His expression was somber, something without emotion, but something stonily compassionate. His eyes said it all.

"Do you really see me as that sort of man, Maerien?" He asked me with his honey slick voice, deep and rich, making my spine tingle and warm of any fear that had just perpetrated my being. His hands did not let mine fall, and he leaned over me, as my face was slung low, my steel eyes plastered to the floors. I had not an asnwer, and though I was at peace, I was going against everything I'd worked for the past five months.

"I do not know…" Was my utterance, and he sighed angrily. For a moment, I believed he would hit me, but his hands still held my own gently, and I felt as a statue might feel, lingering without a heartbeat inside her chest. In all my honesty, this was the truth. I did not know him as I thought I did. I did not know why he had called me here, or yelled at me, or fixed me with the eye of his problems. I dared not cry, for that would only anger him more.

"Look at me," He shook my hand, his order sharp, and when I flinched, he seemed to be struggling with inner havoc, and he then raised my chin with his thumb and forefinger, so that I was forced to stare him in his eyes, "What is it, that I do that makes you so…" He searched for a word, "offended?"

I shuddered from his grasp, his warmth falling away from me. I wished to run from him, but I was afraid, and held myself, standing with my white linen dress draping over me easily, feeling rather naked in such thin cloth. I would have given anything to leave his gaze, but anything to leave it.

"Offended?" I spoke keenly, "You spoke of war as if it were our fault- the daughters-" I sputtered and he shook his head as if I were speaking irrationally.

"I am worried for you all, women of the south are apart of Rohan!" He roared.

"And that I'm supposed to believe?" I challenged, "You show your care so well- Eomer please forgive me if I'm the only one who has not suffered your care!" I spat furiously on a sarcastic tide, feeling the entirety of nine years trapped within a ghost of a woman seep into a new channel; anger. He'd made me this way with his outrageous acts, his hidden thoughts. He'd created this monster, and though I was filled with fear, longing, anger, and sorrow at the same entire time, I stood my ground.

"What must I do to live up to your expectations, Maerien? I am not this horrific figure as you might think." He chatisted.

My face went blank, and I let my hands fall to my sides. If this was how he saw things, I could play his game. I drew poison from my wounds, sucking his inflictions upon me dry, until all that was left was an open wound in my heart. How could I ever express my feelings to him, even though we misunderstood one another, I longed to feel his hands upon mine again, his strength so close. But I would not cave. I had to get out before I became suseptible to my old ways.

"Then show it." I seethed, and walked away, flinging the doors from my path, leaving him standing alone, speechless.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

My world had changed into a game of cat and mouse. Or, something of the sort. I went about my daily life, having dinner with the royals a the right side of Eowyn, never looking at Eomer though all the while, feeling his presence as if he were right beside me once again. My globe of obsession had transformed into a very different thing that I might have seen coming, and ever since I spoke with Arwen, I seem to get very random visions that do not make sense.

But that is besides the point, because the game I was participating in was Eomer's. He went about his normal life just as I did, but I could feel the silent ties that raced back to that day, our fight. I couldn't understand if he was just confused as I, or if he was playing with me as a large cat plays with its food. This was the game, because there came a morning that hailed a magnificent bouquet on my table. Eowyn had entered, gasping and I flung myself out of bed, breathless, to see what she had gasped at.

She simply looked at me, fingering the card placed upon it and sighed with a slight smile upon her lips. Then she turned to face me, oddly forcing happiness, as she hardly did ever. My brows furrowed, my hair a long tangle of ourageous curls hitting my waist, and my eyes sheilding recognition. I supposed I did seem a wild woman in all finality.

"Who have you become, Maerien?" She spoke, her words like poison. I did not know what to say, for the smile eluded me as to if she spoke in compliments or mockery.

"Who-" I asked and she held up her hand for me to silence.

"You know very well." She rasped.

Eomer. He had sent them. There was no place denying it, and as I shifted uneasily, she read it aloud.

"Long have I watched you, been entranced by your unearthly songs and dances, and now I cannot bear it no longer. Meet me among the gardens," She read poetically, and then added, "Signed……….Audeumos, of the Kings Council."

I gasped, a wave of hot surprise resounding through me, my entire heart becoming glazed with panic, "What?" I could hardly hear my voice, but the whisper it was made its way on a heathen breath to Eowyn's ears. I could not understand. Audeumos? He was Eomer's righthand man now that he was not in Gondor! I had never once in my life thought of him in that discretion. Of course, I had spoken with Audeumos before, but it was simple conversation, something that I did with many men and women alike. Being the court singer I was often pursued by the people. I had forgotten my old life, the life of fear and silence, and that was why I held myself with defensive pride as Eowyn responded.

"It is very odd that you might go after him…because Lady Erasleghn is being courted by him."

I frowned, "You know very well I have not pursued that man!" I spoke fiercely, "I hardly speak to him!"

Eowyn with her radiant beauty simply smiled falsely, and shook her head, "You have become someone I do not understand…please, tell me when you are ready, the truth of your faults."

I gasped loudly, shocked and angered by her words. She left on a whir of silver robes, leaving me broken and fevered. What in hells name was wrong with that woman? Had she no heart? Why would she be so selfish as to say she could not understand me now, rather than when I was a ghost of a woman? Did she like me so much better that way? That I did not have my own thoughts or feelings, influence or life? Was I a burden to her now that I had become more than I was so long ago? I clutched my heart, feeling the tears well up inside me. Who was Audemos to even send me these? It would cause an uproar in society, and thus I marched straight from my rooms, still in my nightgown- furious. What was I to be named now, the courts whore? People already spoke of me and Eomer, and of me and a million other men- but this was what their greasy hands had been awaiting. It was so clear, so raring to bequeathe me a whore. My heart ached, and I stormed through the castle halls, reaching the gardens with my hand on my hips. He stood there, back to me, and for the second time in my life I raised my voice to the man before me.

"How could you do this- Lady Eresleghn is an honorable woman! I would take no part in paining her!" I seethed, and as the man turned, I knew I had spoken out of turn. He appeared as if I had beaten my fists upon him, and he raged towards me.

"Would you say that to your beloved Eomer? Would you refuse him so easily?" He spoke low, jealously pining through him.

"I have never had feelings for the King, ever," My voice cracked. Even now I could not refuse it. I was angry with myself, with everyone for making me seem as such a brilliant villain. Was I bewitched to a life of solitude? Was I only safe within the confines of my old persona? Now that I actually found strength, was I that detested? I felt tears welling up within me, and the man with his hunters eyes that had peirced me so disgustingly so long ago that first night I had stood close to Eomer. I suddenly remembered, he was the one who had spoken bad of my forefathers. My malice grew like a tital wave, a storm breaching my very being.

"You must go to Lady Eresleghn and deny all of your foolishness!" I ordered, pointing towards the door that lead within the castle.

"You hold such life within you. I must have you…Maerien," He spoke softly, and I blanched in utter digust.

"Please!" I halted him, and stepped back a few steps, guarding myself from him if he got any ideas. My heart beat drums beneath my chest, almost as if I was once again preforming a song, a ghastly, black song of hatred and shadows, more of scandal than purity.

"No!" He roared, closing in on me, but I ran, I ran within the castle and did not watch if he followed me. All I could hear was blood pounding in my ears, and calamitous misery well up inside me. It was all too much, and I hated myself. I hated them all, and when my thoughts turned their knifesharp points to Eomer, I slowed my running, breathing heavily. He stood there, across the hall, accompanied by a man and they were obviously going over war tactics or something of the life. He was so tall, and his pale hair fell over his shoulders. I felt pain like I'd never felt before, and found that it was not only that my heart was bruising and contorting to love and hatred, but I felt hot liquid upon my forehead, and I was falling to the stone floors.

He had hit me. Audeumos had punched me in my temple, and I suppose I must have issued a scream, for everyone looked to me, shocked on the floor, and Audeumos. All at once, Eomer ran forth, followed by many men of the court.

"I shall have you!" He whispered, and spat on me.

"Remember yourself, Audeumos!" Eomer barked. Audeumos let out a sigh of curled lipped malice, almost as if he were disgusted.

"Please forgive me, Sire," He spoke suddenly sullen, and bowed.

I sat as a child on the floors, shocked as the beads of blood reached my lips. My limbs shook, and I stood, feeling pain course through my head, and the rest of my body. I was filled with panic and sheer, shining anger that seared across my face.

"What in gods name, happened?" A man to the right of Eomer asked.

Audeumos seemed to be struggling internally, and his face twisted. He put his hand over his eyes, and he was apparently torn. Had I known these feelings were there, I would have put an end to them long ago. Now, it seems too late.

"She must be taken to the Physician," Eomer suddenly said, and looked round, pointing at a maid sitting, rearranging the flowers as I so often had done when I was a maid, wanting to see a scene of some sort. She stood there, the image of myself. I felt sick, and she nodded and took my arm.

As we left, I could hear Eomer's yelling voice through all the halls of the castle.

The Physician cleaned my wound, and said I would be fine. He reminded me to get much bedrest, and even as I sat there, his voice cool and aiding, I did not hear him. I reran the mornings violence through my mind. Eowyns feeling of betrayal, Audeumos's hostility, his words…I choked on tears. I would not have refused Eomer so easily. Yes. That was true, but it does not mean my will bends for any. I felt the tears falling silently, and as I was sent off, the maid spoke encouraging words to me. I learned that her name was 'Isaura', and I told her to stay. She cleaned my room incessantly, and I simply sat in the chair at my table. She had dressed me into actual day clothing. She had chosen a simple deep green dress, and I stared in the mirror hanging on the wall, my eyes blank, soulless.

I hated what I had become to others, and the pain overwhelmed me to an extent that left me a black ghost, more than ever before, within my placid skins.

There was no word from Eowyn, no word from anyone. Though, I was not sure as to what I awaited. I simply sat there, until I found my voice near the darkening of the skies. Isaura sat before me, as I was ready to speak.

"I cannot believe…" I faltered.

She nodded, understanding, "Please, my lady, he was in the wrong," She said.

"If I had just known…" I spoke, and that was the last of my talking. It covered so much of the others feelings towards me. So far, I had been thought to be everything in the book. Though, I was nothing that they had said. I am no whore, I am no heartless woman, I am no judgemental one, I am not what they'd like me to be, and I must be put down for them to handle it. Yet, I blamed myself.

If only.

So many might say that saying with apology on their lips, and yet I had not done a thing, and I felt anguish squandering my soul. It was late when a knock came at my door, and I told Isaura to get it. Inside, came Eomer. I stayed seated, almost as if I had been waiting for this. As if it were something I knew to come. His eyebrows were lifted in innocent curiosity, and as I realized he was dressed down from his traditional garb, I understood that he might have had to sneak here.

"Leave us." I said to Isaura, my voice level and heavy like a gauze, and she left dutifully. It was the same dutiful pastiness that I had once held, and it created a rush within me.

Eomer stood there, and was obviously searching for words.

"What is it that you need, my Lord," I asked, watching as his eyes trailed across my head, where I had been punched.

"Are you well?" He said suddenly.

This caught me offguard, and I looked to the floor. My heart burned within me, and I shook my head, but then looked up, "As well as I might ever be." I smiled, not happily, but mockingly.

"What happened, between you and Audemos." He asked gruffly.

"Nothing!" I rasped, and he rolled his eyes as if this were not an answer he wanted.

"You know what he has said, in his defense, then?" He croaked.

I looked to the floor once again, unwilling to hear what the wreched man had supposed of us. He had never so much as spoken to me on occasion, and now I heard gossip and lies whispering in the back of my mind.

"Did he touch you?" He asked, himself not looking at me. It was an order, weighted with anger.

"Never!" I responded loudly, and suddenly anguish caught up with me, and I stood, walking to my window, to look out of it. The day had been washed away by blackness, and I could only see a torchlight in the villages, "But I suppose that is what he said…" I spoke somberly.

"Yes." Came his word. He had thought…my face slung low, and I forced tears back, shaking them away, swallowing them. How could he ever think- how could he ever even suggest that I had been with that spineless pig of a man? I reached my hand out for support from the wall, and breathed shallow.

"I know him well, so I spotted his lies- but I just…" He faltered, and I recognized his hope. Had he any feelings for me, it was now. I kept myself facing the window, my breath fogging the pane.

"Please, do not place me among that lie," I said bitterly, "As so many others have…"

I could imagine his expression, maybe shocked, maybe pained. Either would be something in his nature, but what I did not expect, was him to come up behind me, and hold me with his arms. I uttered an exhale, my heart beat quickening. I breathed heavily, feeling his strength wrapped around me from behind me. I wished to see his expression, but I was frozen. My eyes were rooted to staring out the window, and as he whispered in my ear, I trembled.

"I know I do not know you, as well as I might have thought, but I have never assumed the worst of you." He said, his honey voice full of meaning. Immedietly, I understood that I had been judging him to harshly. He just…didn't understand me, and I faded within. My heart and eyes downcast, I felt pain delight in me. For my entire life, suffering, pain, sadness, and guilt have been my life- and this moment of confession was no exception.

"If only I had known his feelings were there…I would have put an end to them sooner." I wavered.

"This is my fault." He said, his voice strong. This took me offguard as well, and I wound myself to face him, a quizzical expression upon my, internally defeated face.

"No, it is mine-" I began, but he cut me off.

"I had hoped you two would find happiness…he had feelings for you for so long, and I- I goaded them, telling him to find you and pursue his hearts desires."

My gut clenched, and I wallowed into a pit of heartsickness.

"How could you?" I whispered, "You know not my feelings for anything!"

He simply narrowed his eyes, "I felt that you both would be happy."

I rolled my eyes, wishing he would just feel, just see how my heart raced when he entered a room, when he met my gaze for only a few seconds. I stood in rancid shock, anguish trepidating through me, suffocating me. No. How could he not see? Was I so lost to him?

"How can you not see…" I began, but I stuffed my mouth with the years of secrecy, and they filled me with silence, almost as if the spell was in place. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to understand, but I pointed to the door, and said, "Please, leave me in peace."

His hands slid from my shoulders, and he sighed, turning and walking towards the door. With every footstep, my heart suffered a great panging. Had I just…rejected him? I clutched my heart as he shut the door behind him, and crumpled to the floors, a great flower of lamentation, sobbing into my sepal. My knees. I muffled my sobs, though I cried for everything. I was squandered of my life, and felt a black shadow in upheaval, smiling through the darkness as if I were its prey.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Life within Rohan, was agonizing. Every morning I woke with a damned, doomed, feeling clutching my heart. The war was at full height, and my heart was squished beneath a lingering guilt and panic. We had no celebrations, and though the falling out of Lady Laresleighn and Audeomos was spoken on loud whispers, haunting my footsteps, I realized one, key, finalization that erupted like spikes around me, almost as if I moved without processing my thought, I would be slaughtered.

I had known of my desolate circumstancs, finding them, just as my life was. Yet, a crippling thought seduced me. For days on end it gnawed at my innards, weeks, in fact. I lived alone, without Eowyn as a simple being amongst me, with only the silent Isaura to comfort my loneliness, which seemed to envelope and devour me willingly. I had become a ghost of anger, and my thoughts were often permeated by heated moments, anguish willing itself within me, but always loitering, was rage and resentment.

As for my brilliant thought, it was a brilliant plot, and unravelled before me as if life was coaxing me onwards, showing me the right path. It was absurd, yet inviting and desirable, almost like a stream in one of those deserts. My oasis, a lovely glimpse of untravelled terrain, of possibility and direction.

But, could I do it? I mused along the web of ideas that came to me. They were all the easy way out, but then again- I was not anything close to a brave one. I was willing to stop the pain, even if a life turning event had to be it.

I often took a turn about my room, the piece of fabric that Eomer had once held, between my palms. I would breath into it, imagining his hands there, warm and soft upon my face. I clung to everything that reminded me of him, because as my mind wandered to more eclectic thoughts, I felt ashamed that I was so weak.

I walked about the castle unashamedly, holding my head high as I past a gaggle of gossiping women, Eowyn among them. I'd heard word of her final engagement through Isaura, and was notified I was uninvited from her wedding. At this, I felt backstabbed, and pained. Was I truly so loved to be hated? Nonetheless, I held to what I had left of my confidence, so built in the past months, now so demolished and ruined.

He, was it. He was my strength, as pathetic as it sounds. The words he'd whispered in my ear gave me hope, and fear at the same time.

Did he really feel for me at all? The idea gave me chills, and I would usually have to retire early.

At dinner, I found him staring distractedly at me, his wine glass lifted halfway to his lips, and then a ghost of a smile twitched his mouth upward, and then he drank. The sinuous spell he'd so captivated me with, entwined round my legs and up to my navel, making me sigh at the dinner table, setting my glass down quite violently.

A woman beside me gave me a perplexed expression, but I looked anywhere but at the people round me. I simple ate my roast chicken diligently, almost as if I were famished, tearing into the bread.

I supposed he thought he was amusing, gazing at me from the head of the table, and then whilst I was in the hall, he would brush past me, his shoulder rubbing against mine. I shivered when he would torment, and excite me with these happenings. On more lazy days, I would find myself up in the tower once more, as in the old days had been a habitual preferance of mine. I would sit upon the stone steps, a book in my hands, reading history or fables alike.

His presence was instantly known, and as he stood in the doorway, I did not have to look to see him. I could feel him, and I had to coax myself to keep calm, as we had not been alone since the night of my pathetic incedent. His voice rung through my ears, the ones he had whispered, and I simply stared down at my book, pretending to read, but listening to my heart pound beats through my head.

He walked ahead, lounging in the huge window, pretending, himself, that he did not see me.

It was I that broke the silence.

"Why do you come here?" I asked, echoing his question so long ago asked to me, myself.

I could see his eyebrows lift, and then his face set grimly, almost as if I had chosen incorrect words. But this was just his thinking face. He was recalling, recollecting. I had to bite away a smile, and supposed I appeared positively glum.

"The sun." He spoke lightly, and turned to face me.

I did not look up, and thus found that my hands were shaking. How had I found the courage to speak to him? I swallowed tightly, and knew I must. I must face him. If not, where would I be, but back in the same skins that I once thrived in? I was not the same phantom- only a different strain of her. Yet, it was better this way.

He still said the sun, though it was evening, and I let him view a trace of my never before seen smile. It was a present, of some sort. For I had never smiled once among him. I had to smile, to show him I cared. What was love without agression?

"And I suppose I should leave now, right?" I said with a coyness I had not known was in me. It must have been lying dormant until this moment, because he was oddly enthused.

"If that's what you see fit, Maiden," He said starkly. I found that I glowed from the inside, and all along this is what I had wanted. I just wanted his company…that was it.

"Why would I, my Lord?" I spoke keenly, questioning his own actions so many months before. His eyes flitted to mine, surfacing avid emotion, and twinkling curiously. I wanted to laugh mishcheviously, but thought better of it. My mind was a blur, and as he let out a tight exhale of something I could only define as laughter, my eyes glittered.

"Because you are a coward," He spoke tough, and I had no image of this muscled man being a coward. What did he mean? I was utterly lost, and laid my face in my palm, staring up at him.

"I am not a coward, and never have been." I said bemusedly, my eyes drawing a circle up to the ceiling. He could see me blatantly questioning him, and though he smiled roughly, he shook his head.

"Then you are lying to yourself," He said lightly, matter-of-factly, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were sore. I wished to rub his neck for him, to ease his pain. I could imagine it, and though the images crept a blush unto my face, and I looked down once again, I found still, more words.

"What form of cowardice, might it be, if I may be so bold?" I asked, shifting my book upon my lap. He seemed to sigh, and etched in his face, was anger. I placed it as anger in himself, not in me. This I now understood from past experiences, yet he stood there, willing to halt my ramblings.

"Couldn't you see for yourself?" He uttered, and put his hands on his hips, walking away from me, my eyes quivering upon his back. He seemed to be battling with something, and I wished to aide him, but I did not know what to say to rid him of the conversation that obviously pained him.

"I'm hardly the observer, my Lord," I whispered into the evening air, and my voice seemed to be sucked into a vorex of his rage. He spun on his heel, and his eyes narrowed, as if he did not understand.

"You…" He began a thread of a question, but thought better of it, and dried his lips of any thoughts that lumbered along his brows.

"What do you think of Rohan's horses, Maerien?" He asked, filing over his more personal question that might have been the death of us both. I breathed easily now, and looked him in his mahogony eyes, brilliant and enchanting.

"I adore them," I blinked, and looked up into his enchanting, sweet chestnut eyes.

"I never heard of you, being taught how to ride," He spoke testily, almost as if saying this was putting him though sufferage. I did not know how to react, or where he was getting at, and thus nodded delicately.

"Do you want me to…teach you?" His eyes were at the floor, his brows lowered, but then he glanced up at me, and I saw traces of his boyhood link to him. He looked innocent, and perhaps, filled with hope. It made all the difference in his expression, and I cherished this moment for the years to come. It rattled me, his question, and salvaged some of the wounds he had inflicted upon my heart.

"I shall not refuse…" I murmured, feeling quite lost of breath. He nodded in affirmation, and went towards me, struggling within himself, and he grabbed my hand, placed upon my lap, and he brought me to a stand. I went into a dazed cut, and once again, the world about me was hazy and simply limp. He took precious moments, staring into my eyes, and I am sure he could hear my breath coming in quickening paces, almost as if I had been running for miles.

"Well then," He said cunningly, and kissed my hand, his lips excruciatingly soft, leaving my skin burning and tingling. I almost screamed, or something of the sort, and had to master every emotion that bellowed within me at that moment, just so that I did not swoon.

Leaving me standing, breathless, he called over his shoudler, "Tomorrow. Same time in the stables." And then he was absent, leaving me to crumple to the floors from weakness, my limbs shaking madly. Was I still such a fool? I smiled to myself, feeling rather victorious, but livid all the same. Had he really just told me to meet him for lessons? Lessons were not the more intoxicating part, but just being in his presence would slick my gloom away and settle as a tourniquet for my heart.

I belonged with him, despite my thoughts only weeks earlier, of running away.

Leaving the tower which resounded with our tension-filled voices, I climbed unto the safety of my room, taking a bath, adding extra scents and taking my time brushing through the tangles in my hair as I hardly ever did. Things had to be perfect tomorrow, and I wished to display myself as beautiful as Eowyn. I chose a pale gray dress that fell across my body in a draping fashion, showing my figure quite well. The neckline did not run low, but the sleeves dipped below the shoulders, and the color was glamorous on my southern skin; olive tan.

Of course, this was all before that next day, when the day was as sweet as honey. I awaited him in the stable, and waited. For a long while, I settled in resentment, until he came barging through the stable doors.

He seemed taken aback by my appearance, and then turned away suddenly, as if he could not stand to look at me.

"My Lord?" I questioned silkily, knowing all too well what men's weaknesses were.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter EIGHT ! AHHHHH

My entire life, I have spent in some form of agony. Each morning, rising and feeling devout anguish, agitation, and living amongst the lines of my strict emotions, exalting them whilst letting them steer me in one or another direction. This day was not of my life- it was perfection coiled between the inner peace that eased through me, looking upon Eomer as if I had won some grand victory. It was not the same as any other day, and there would never be one of such capacity, ever again. In all honesty, I was amazed with myself.

Had I no reason for pride, as he stood there uncomfortable with my presence? I had longed for this, so long, and now that it was here, it was hardly real. I seemed to float, a being of light, rather than my lost past. I delighted in him, watching as he strode with his tight posture, to retreive two sweet horses from the stalls. The smell of them bound me to the earth, and there was so much I learned that day.

I had never ridden a horse, but I assumed it not to be anything of a problem. Yet, when Eomer returned, head held high with a somewhat tense expression, the horses towered over me like picturesque gods. I felt my jaw drop, and I immedietly stepped forth, outstretching my arm to run my fingers across the muzzle of the horse before me, a gray, rose mare. To the brilliant horses side, was Eomer's deep brown horse that hailed from the colors of his eyes. I glanced at Eomer while I patted the girl, and found that he was watching me potently.

He was simply too much, and my heart melted as it often did.

"You ready?" He spoke surly.

I simply nodded, wiping whatever emotion that had been on my face. I did not want to show it, or admit to him my feelings. I supposed to both of us, this horse-riding lesson was more of a…precaution. If we did not make time, (if he had not made time) my desire for him would have exploded, and it would not have been a rational sight. Yes. Bringing ourselves together for simple things such as this could hurt nothing. It was not as if he was…courting me. I shivered and my head throbbed with the idea.

"I assume you know how to get on the horse?" He asked with his eyebrows lifted in question. I had to shake his gaze off, keeping my eyes down as he looked at me without so much as avid humility. He was a man, and I was not around them as much as I thought, feeling rather foolish for wearing my clothes as I had today. I seemed to forget that men were more direct, and they rarely cared for sentimental things such as I. Keeping your eyes away? He did not care in the least.

"I never learned," I admitted shiftily, and he seemed to nod a bit, but only just slightly.

I had always prided myself in knowing Eomer's quirks and actions, loving them each differently, and singluar. His slight nod meant that he was nervous. For what, I did not know. I adored his simple, masked faces. There was so much hidden beneath the lines of his face, and though there were only rare times I felt comfortable staring into his eyes, I had memorized their every splint of gold, their overbearing chocolate, and their intruiged, slightly pained look. Ever since we were young together, me a maid of ten, himself a prince at seventeen- I had known these traits.

"Okay," He blew out a breath, having a stable boy saddle our horses, "Its real simple, all you do is put your right leg into the stirrup, and then swing yourself over, and…you're up."

Oh, so simple Eomer. I was more afraid of making a fool of myself, than the horse, which stood like a pillar before me. I could not help but feel idiotic as I shuffled about the side of the horse, my eyes widening in all ferocous awe of the huge thing I was trying to…mount.

Of course, he was teaching me the mans way to ride. But I assumed he'd forgotten it was not how a woman rode. Yet I liked it better this way. It gave a woman more power over things. Why should a man ride with his legs wide, while a woman not? Lifting myself in the stirrup, I stood, lightly, lifting myself gracelessly over the side, wobbling and straining for some sort of balance. When I finally plopped myself into the saddle, hurredly shifting my dress to cover my legs, I caught a glimpse of Eomer hiding a smile.

He mounted his horse with expertise, and I imagined him thundering forth with his spear, a true terror for his opponents. The idea was intimidating, yet I somehow knew he wouldn't try anything too special on the horse with my oh-so delightful preformance trying to get on, in the prior.

The stable boy opened the tall gates for us, and Eomer pointed lazily out in front of him, a motion for telling me to move ahead. My gut clenched; how was I supposed to…move it? Enraptured by my own championship win of making the best fool of myself, I kicked the horse barely hard enough for it to feel it.

Eomer's face twisted, almost as if there was something extremely amusing about the entire situation, and then he kicked his own horses sides, trampling forth. I sat there atop my horse like a statue, feeling my face burn. Was he just going to leave me here? I kicked my horse wildly, as no one was around me. What the hell! I suddenly felt shame, undiluted and raring for life surfacing on my cheeks. No. Not this day…

I smacked the horses side with all my might, and the grey rose mare tore forth, whinnying hysterically. I had to clutch the reigns with everything that I was to stay atop her back, and once I was along side Eomer, I even beat him from Rohan's walls, galloping out into the planes of Rohan, without a home or scrap to clutter the view. My heart raced, and thudded along my eardrumbs, and I clung low to the mare, feeling the dust enter my nostrils, and lift me to a height that I might describe as soaring. My hair swept out behind me in a long plume, almost like a flag in the wind. I recall Eomer riding up beside me, halting my trek.

"Whats wrong, my lord?" I asked him, breathless.

"I was thinking we could go to the pond," He alleged, and galloped ahead. I bit back my sudden ardor for competition, and lightly urged my horse on, till I was lilting upon his tail. He rode with his warlord proficiency, a knight of his own, a king with his wild hair. I imagined his face as he rode forth so skillfully, which was probably displaying a cold expression, unable to express his excitement. Though, maybe it was just I that held a newfound passion for streaking through the air like a bird.

Everything that I was pealed away as we rode forth, as I followed him, I could not remember my anguish from the days of my life, and though I still knew that they were there, they were forgotten this day.

The moment we reached a small ravine of maple trees, He slipped from his horses back with a grace only a man could ensnare. Slowing my horse to a trot, and then to a cobbling walk, I tried to dismount, and caught my foot in the stirrup, and I fell upon the forest floors into a mound of leaves and earth.

Eomer was at my side in an instant, with a paternal glean arching his eyebrow. His eyes skimmed me with a face devoid of expression, but then he lowered himself to my side, his eyes narrow and full of light, almost twinkling. I fely my face scorch, and I was sure he could see the hot pink that flowed freely across my face and neck.

"I am all right." I shuffled quickly to my feet, feeling that I had to gain my confidence back. He simply grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet, with a slight smirk lining the side of his lips. I yanked my hand from his, and flashed him a dark look.

"I'm sure," He said, laughter underlining his gruff voice that tantalized my dreams so often.

But, then it all came free. My questioning, my desire to ask one key question. It had been lingering along the fringes of my mind, but aloud it sounded so much more grating.

"Why have you brought me here?" I snapped.

He seemed startled, and glanced upwards, then down, then directly into my eyes. I could not feel my breath coming, nor the wind on my hair, or the earth beneath my feet because he seemed to see right past me. He'd always looked at me, but this was a side of him I had never seen before. He saw right through me, my vast armor of confidence. How had I been so stupid, as to think he'd never known…that he'd never even suspected my love for him? I crumbled within, feeling my limbs prickling from the adrenline now coursing through me.

"And why do you think?" He said as if it were a fairly obvious question. It was a challenge, a sweet sensual question that made my insides burn.

I did not have to think. Nor question. I knew why. Yet, was it possible that this heartbreaking man could ever look upon me in such a way? What if, after all my years of silent despondency, did he now see me in that light? I wrung my hands together, looking towards the forest floors. What if, was a very dangerous idea to ask oneself, and yet so necessary that I had to know. I had to…But I did not have to ask in any form or way, because he stepped steadily towards me, almost as if the few feet that he traveled were filled with some sort of repelling gravitation.

"You know, Maerien. There's no way on this earth, that you do not know," He stared into my eyes from overhead, his hands snaking about my arms. There was his strength again, and I almost buckled from the closeness. I shook my head defiantly, obviously entranced as my eyes were locked on his own. I knew. Oh, Eomer, I knew.

He did not kiss me.

Eomer, the man I'd seen grow from a naïve seventeen year old prince, to a twenty-seven year old king, ruthless and hotheaded, pulled me into a tight embrance, one hand resting on the back of my head. I was shocked, and found myself receiving and returning this suddenly sentimental action. I felt tears stinging my eyes, but found that my heart was elevated to an incurable height, and I let out a sharp gasp.

"My Lord," I murmured.

He then released me shaking his head, "You do not understand, Maerien, you have this hold over me. Before you, I was an honorable man of regulations. Now, I cant seem to find anything worth the while. Without you…" He seemed to be pained, and he reached out to touch my hair fondly, taking a lock of it between his fingers, and feeling its smoothness.

My entire being was on fire, and I wanted to throw my arms around him, but held back as insufferable as it was, awaiting his poigant, poised words brimming of the damage he spoke of.

"You cant imagine what I've gone through, to even bring myself to tell you these things," He spoke solemnly, and the lock of my hair fell, like a stream of his desires lost to my silence.

I was speechless, and simply stepped one step forward, willing myself to have courage. Now that I knew he wanted me, why was I so afraid? I placed my hand on his face pragmatically, fondly, and stared into his livid pools of amber, my words not nearly enough to display the contagion that was my heart.

"You have no idea…how long I have been waiting for you to say these things," I whispered leisurely.

Then he kissed me.

His lips were soft and loose, not tight as I'd imagined them. My entire body seemed to shatter into a billion pieces, but hum as one, in unison as this is what I had wanted my entire life for nine years since my tenth birthday.

[ His lips parted slowly, his neck tilting to the side till he steadily rocked his face into mine, teasing me with hesitant tastes of his tongue, until I myself hesitantly returned the pressure, my hand caught in midair, unknowing as to where I should place it. I ended up settling it upon his neck, his hands passionately scaling the hills of my body, touching, pinching, caressing, all the while our lips meshed and our tongues danced, almost as if my tongue was not my tongue, but another more favorable part of my body.]

For some reason, an image of me, a tiny girl tossing a coin into the well in the middle of Rohan came to mind. I smiled through his lips, and kissed him back easily, as if it were the simplest and most passionate thing I had ever indulged myself in.

It was more than I'd longed for, and I smiled in between his kiss yet again, and he pulled back, gazing into my eyes closer and more understanding than ever. It was perfect, nothing like the women had told me so long ago. It was not wet, nor aggressive. It was gentle and sweet, like a brisk dew upon my lips.

There were no words to explain our kisses, only to see was to understand. We were lovers long deprived of each others presence, and it was like coming home. At long last, we parted, and he smiled widely, something I had never seen before.

"You're going to be the death of me, Maerien." He said as if he were marveling at me. This made me blush, playing with the idea of him loving me as much as I loved him. There was so much I wished to tell him, to say. Yet my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, immobile.

"And how might I do that, my Lord?" I spoke coyly, leaning back against a tree as he looked out at the pond. Yet, whenever his eyes did graze over me, it was for longing and unrestrained desire, which made me tremble.

"Call me Eomer," He ordered.

"_Eomer_," I corrected myself with a teasing tone. His eyes suddenly held pain, and he held his arm out to me so that I might come to him. Immediately, as if I was built for him, I reached out and grabbed his hand and he coiled me in, so that I was facing the lake, but within the braces of his arms.

"Promise me," He spoke shiftily in my ear, "Promise me you are mine…" I could sense fragility behind these words, though they came from the pit of his unfeeling mask. I breathed heavily, knowing that I would savor this entire day for the rest of my unabiding life.

"Are you mine?" I asked almost dejectedly.

Eomer kissed my neck lightly, "What do you think?"

"Let me hear you say it." I coaxed him on, and he simply sighed and then turned me round to face him.

"I promise you, Maerien, my heart belongs to you alone."

I blushed and looked to the grounds, and suddenly a vision passed before my eyes. It was Eomer on his horse, galloping straight towards me with ambition and malice lighting his eyes, his entire body swathed in glimmering armor. I shook my head of the image, and then smiled up at him once more, free of all struggling. I would not give any thought to it now. Things were too perfect.

"And I yours, Eomer," My eyes shone, "Why me? Though."

Eomer stood still for a moment, and seemed to be hardly breathing, "You honestly do not see yourself if you are asking that."

I almost laughed, for within myself I saw a scared, and ghostly little girl stolen of her childhood and forced into a life that did not make sense. All he saw was my surface. My so called 'beauty' that was nothing but plain faced salience.

"I am nothing as you've thought," I spoke clearly, admitting my childish worries to his face.

"You are beautful. You are an individual and do what you please," He began, but I cut him off, ripping myself from his embrace.

"No. I am nothing but a coward, alone and to scared to even reach out and tell you…" I told him forcefully, but a trace of fondness linked to the edge of them, undying and pinpointed.

"Don't think like that. Do you think I planned for this?" He waited for my response, but I gave none, "No," He kissed me again, "I think…I think we are alike in more ways than we know."

His words were touching, and I closed my eyes in hearing them, letting them sink into me. The crazy feeling I'd held tight for so long was released in the truth of it all. I'd been alone for so long, and now that he held me I felt my anger and sadness run dry in my veins. Nothing seemed as bad as I had made it before, and I almost laughed at the thought of myself crying over him.

"I know," I said, happiness welling up inside me.

The rest of the day we spent talking of casual things, mounting our horses yet again. He showed me Rohan's borders, and where some of the Southern mens camps were. He told me he was worried that they would attack soon, and that he wanted to teach me how to defend myself. Of course, I was delighted in the idea. In the evening, as the sun set, we returned to the pond he asked me to sing for him, and so I did, feeling more nervous and striving for a good performance than ever. Afterwards he wrapped me in his arms and we lied beneath the trees, silent and dozing. After our nap, it was late into the night. He looked surprised that the day seemed to have passed so quickly, and we rode through the dark, back to the confines of Rohan.

Questions evaded my sense of peace, and though we had to part unwillingly, with tens of kisses, we went to our own rooms and slept; the end of the best day in my life.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE:

The morning after, I slept late into the day. It was after noon when I finally lifted my head and its aching properties, eyes shut tightly as Isaura opened the window to let in light. I stretched silently, feeling almost sick from emotional overbalances. Was yesterday, real?

If it was, there was nothing I could do to stop what would happen. He could not court me, and that was final. He was King. Why I ever had the slightest hope evaded me as I sat, distraught in my bed, legs tangled in the covers. What would now happen? I held my held low, and wiped the exhaustion from my eyes, calling Isaura to aide me. She helped me slip from my jarred position in the bed, onto my two feet. She dressed me into a sleek maroon dress, and I simply ran a brush through my hair and then pinned it into a messy bun, assailing parts of the bun falling from the pins and draping down my neck.

"What is on the schedule today?" I asked Isaura, guiding my feet into slippers.

For a moment, Isaura exposed a nervousness that I had never seen upon her face. Yet she slyly surpassed it with a minute smile, bowing a bit.

"The King, he told me," she stuttered a bit, "He told me to forewarn you, not to worry."

"Worry?" I became skeptical, "Worry of what? Exactly?"

"He was called to the frontlines early this morning, as there was an approaching invasion," She supplied as if I were about to rip her hair out. Though no one would be mistaken the dangerous expression that flashed across my face, the blackened souls of my eyes rich with fury.

There were no words to say, exactly, as what might I inquire of a maid? There was never a thing I could do to alter the future, to alter a happening of something that did not appeal to me. I seemed to become unbalanced, tilting a bit to one side, an ephemeral vindication of loneliness surpassing my everyday pallor. I did not speak, but only swept from my apartments, my insides bouncing as I strode down the middle of the hallways, a creature unknown to me, battling just beyond my ribs. Was it anxiety? Longing? Surely I would recognize anxiety, and wistfulness all the same. But there were no words to put paint to the feelings, and almost as if I were dead among the living, I made my way to the stables.

As soon as I arrived, men seemed to view me with a sort of sardonic glean, and the glutton in all men's eyes was irrationally disgusting. Had I never noticed men before this? I wiped away these irksome thoughts, and sought after the horse he had bestowed as a gift, unto myself. I mounted her back without a saddle, and kicked the mare into a frenzied gallop, the stable boy nearly a second late in pushing the heavy stable doors open.

Though I knew riding alone was against protocol, I was beyond words, and found myself steering the grey rose mare upon fast turns and splits in the open world that surrounded Rohan, until I came upon the space that I had been just yesterday, and slipped from her back, my legs tired and weak.

Everything about me seemed weak, too fathomably foolish and ignorant of what life actually was, to believe that Eomer would drop all protocol and pursue me. What was his proclaimed love then? What were his words that had struck straight to the core of me? What was his hands upon my face and hair, kissing me? I felt as a child might, naïve and used for the wrong purposes. I longed for him, and yet I was angered in my stupidity. No. He would never actually…how could I have allowed a dream so sinful, to clasp hold of my reality? Why was my head always so ardently frolicking amongst the clouds?

I knelt into a seat in a patch of leaves, digging my nails into the earth and pulling up the grasses. Why? I didn't allow shameful tears to race down my cheeks, and thus sat there alone, listening to the birds, the water, and the earth hum. The sun streamed through the treetops, and it reminded me of Eomer, and his appitamy of the sun- what he was to me. I almost was bequeathed with nausea- and shut my eyes to the pain. Everything and anything. It would remind me of him…

My mind settled upon the fact that I should not see him, if we were never to become married. If not, why would I insist upon leading myself on, holding onto a dream that would never be mine? For a moment's time, I felt akin to Eowyn and her heartaches, and suddenly understood her feelings for Aragorn, and the entirety of that problem.

Though, Eomer had lead me on, and Aragorn had simply said and done simple things in that light. Eomer had actually touched me, actually…spoken of love. My mind whirred, and suddenly I heard footsteps. Many footsteps.

I whipped round, standing, and before me, stood a dozen of the southern men. I wished to scream- but my lips were seared shut, and my legs were frozen now, rooted to the earth.

"Do not move Lady, or we will kill you," A man spoke drearily, the one afronting his group like a wraith, his helmit displaying the southern crest; a crow. Death.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN:

My world was lost amongst a vast array of psychotic emotions. I had no voice left in me, as the men in their clinking arms fastened ropes around my body, speaking classically rogue. What were these people doing so close to Rohan?

My mind was filled with an allotment of dangerous thoughts of Eomer's defeat and my own death. Shackles clicked over my hands and they blindfolded me with chortling, repulsive mannerisms that made my skin crawl. I would have screamed, if it weren't for the large round stopper of fear widening my eyes and filling my entire being with a catastrophic sense of dread.

I was lifted onto the backside of a horse, and a man brought my hands together round his waist. I felt disgusted, and the first thought of a man that came to mind was Eomer. But this mans hands were different; rough, calloused and suddenly the horse was flying forward, trampling forth. I held on with what lease I had with my hands to the shreds of the man's waist, my eyes blinded by the linen strapped over my eyes.

The men were silent as their band of twelve men galloped forth. I could tell that we were going in through the forest, because the shade of light darkened over my eyes, and ever so often there would be a burst of light that slivered through the linen. I felt hot tears threatening to fall. My life seemed to be worth nothing without Eomer, and if he'd indeed fallen to the grotesque blades of the Southern people, there would be no more of me. There would be no future. Yet, the idea of his life held what was left of my shattered soul together- almost as if it was a glue. He couldn't be dead, I told myself, shutting my eyes in mediocre fear.

Just yesterday things had been so wonderful. The best day of my entire life since I'd come unto Rohan as a servant and scaled my way up the steps in society. Everything I had worked for was lost between the fingers of my set course, like sand; you cannot hold it, only watch as it slips away from between your palms.

They would kill me. I knew it at the core of me, unless they recognized me as a woman of the court. They could use me, torture me until I gave them actual information. I would never break for his sake though, that I knew for the only life that sustained me now. I wanted to scream, but there was nothing that could stop them now, and I would not test their tolerance in a prisoner. All I could do was wait, clinging to the back of the southern man as the horse trampled forth on a jagged step.

Me, of all people. Why did they find me? Were they watching myself and Eomer yesterday? I shuddered as the cold wind slapped across my face, the sharp claws of branches whipping my face as we traveled forth. It was close to an hour before there was any notion of faltering. Yet as I felt the horses pace waver and wane into a walk, I suddenly heard voices, the clamor of pots, and then scent of smoke. I was lifted from the horse by the tough hands of a southern man, and then the man on the horse followed after, taking me gruffly by the arm, his armor clanking.

I could sense men all around, and I knew that this, it was their camp. Fear drenched through my entire being, and I felt myself wringing my hands together as he guided me forward, like a blind old beggar I felt, and stumbled often over the wood and leaves pasting the forest floors. The keen scent of verdant shrubbery and foliage was caught in my nose like an intoxicating purity, along with the subtle dreariness of the black smoke and roasting something or other.

It felt more glacial in this area, with heavy gale's sporting icy reigns across their camp. Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped off of my face. The encampment was exactly as I'd pictured it. Men sat round a huge bonfire, clanking in their armor and holding weapons at the ready, conversing deftly with heavily lidded eyes flashing my way ever so often. Men. I hated them all with a passion so fierce it crippled me, and the man had to push me forth into a canvas tent set up most likely for their leader.

Once within, there was a man with a large black beard sitting prominently behind a mahogany desk; the color of Eomer's eyes. Tears filled my eyes all at once, and I went rigid with fear as the cold man gazed upon me.

"Good work, Cairion," The man spoke heartless, "I do believe this will award you a higher position in the king's eyes."

The man spoke to Cairion, the name of the man who held me with hot, rough skinned hands in one place. Though, I could not imagine leaving from that spot. If I'd had any brave bone in my body, there may be a chance for me, yet, I was not brave, nor did I harbor any vein of courage within me. I felt myself bleed on the inside, a hatred so great and powerful dislodging in the pit of my stomach, yet receding in lapping waves that issued themselves upon me as lamentation.

He then turned his attention upon me, "Welcome to your new home, concubine of Rohan," came the man's vile words. My eyes stayed level to the floor. It would not cast my gaze upon him, and as I awaited his words I prayed silently for Eomer to know where I was, to be safe. I prayed for his existence. That was what would keep me living through these days, till death did me part.

I just hoped it would be quick.

"We're taking you back to King Dredaus, of the Southern peoples. Your…family," He corrected my tears that fell moist into the floor, "I take it from your hair and eyes? You know, whore's of Rohan are not taken with so much as a fleck of mercy. They are slaughtered," his voice penetrated my being, and I allowed tears to fall freely and fresh down my face, "Yet…"

There he paused, and I waited with a contagion of suffrage dismembering my heart and organs.

"King Dredaus has resigned you to be held at ransom, for that of your special circumstances."

I glanced up bewildered and flummoxed, "I do not-"

"You're the king's whore, correct?" he ruffled through maps and papers on his desk with cruel, unfeeling distaste apparent on his lined face. He did not care.

"This makes you very important to us," He spoke drearily, and droned on, "Thus, you shall be held at ransom for your precious King to retrieve."

"No!" I whispered hoarse.

The man with the beard simply chuckled darkly, "Take this wench to the holding stock. Keep an eye on her, Cairion."

Cairion nodded his head in curt agreement, his dark locks shifting forward over his dark, olive complexion. He was young, this much I gathered, but as I was shuffled from the tent, he was nothing more than stiff and dissenting with a sternness upon his face. I felt my hope break, and everything was lost.

I could not allow them to lure Eomer into their trap. It would be my fault if they did. This knowledge pained me beyond anything that was, and had been before- and I discovered a thick stream of tears dripping down my face, casting a ruddy effect upon me.

What had I become? This was not what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to become married to Eomer, live a life with him- bear his children. I wept at this thought, and knew that I must not allow Eomer to fall. I was put in this position, and had a choice in the fact of what might play out.

We approached an alcove between the thick trees, and a smaller, more simple tent was set up for prisoners. There was an old man sitting in the tent, its flap of door pinned wide. I felt myself buckle under the pressure of being pushed forth, and I fell on my knees, receiving a dark expression from Cairion.

"Get up!" He ordered, and I stumbled upwards, crying loudly. Men glanced this way and that, trying to find the origin of shrill cries. Eomer, oh Eomer. Please, help me.

I wished for Eomer to save me, yet I knew that was the last of my concerns. More, the concerns for myself dimmed with the idea of Eomer in his dangerous position. Would he know what was happening beneath the veil of Rohan? I wished to run and fling myself upon him, have him hold me with his strong arms in a loving embrace. But this would not be anymore. There was no chance in finding him again…there was only death now.

Cairion tied me to a post to the right of the tent, and he allowed me to slump to the forest floor. He himself plopped on a barrel, running his hand through his glossy black crow hair. I shuddered as the chills of wind incessantly caressed me like memories, icy and filled with crippling numbness. I could not move, nor speak, and I felt my chin high in rebellion.

"You know," Cairion spoke with dry humor, "Your lucky."

I stared straight, my eyes unfocused. I hardly caught his low voice, sifting beneath the lively gusts of wind.

"You really are…" He spoke to himself, as I'd given him no sense of acknowledgement. His dark hair fell over his surly face; tendrils of matted curls, giving the impression that he was encrusted with a film of dirt. His skin was darkened as well, and held an olive tone as my own did, though he was darker and seemed to hold rings of black around his eyes. The typical southern man.

"Lucky?" I hissed in despair, feeling the espionage of hatred coil and squirm round my innards. How could he possibly say that? I wanted to slap him, see him struggle as I did. I wished to see them all slain, and though my heart wallowed in a pit drenched with sorrow and bleeding lamentation, there was nothing more for me but a nightmare of hell turned living, "My life is lost already boy, and you would do well to stay silent in my presence. I am not the king's whore. I am…" But the words were too horrible to utter, and a great film of heavy tears weighted my eyelids and mouth, so that I clasped a hand over them, shielding my obvious suffrage from his eyes.

He did not look at me, nor did he especially care if I spoke as if I were higher than him. He simply sniffed and sighed lightly, plying with his leather gloves, "They all think that they are close to him, and then it turns out that they are simply another foolish capture, and in the end, believe me, you'll be glad for death. I've seen it before. Their using the same tactics in luring Eomer of Rohan to meet us on the battlefield; trying to get him to save his woman. Alas, when they call him to arms, relay the information of your whereabouts, he will not care. He will betray you just as he has the rest of his people." There was a smugness to Cairion's voice, and the wind howled despicably with wicked claws.

My shoulders began gesticulating, and that was when I realized that sobs were coming from my lips. I couldn't keep myself whole in this. Was this truth? Was what Cairion saying alight with something that I should have known all along? I buried my face into my knees, hating life and all its damned creation. What would become of me? Was I so much a ruined soul that in the end, all my futile attempts to cling to this world, and become a woman I could stand and be proud of, was it all for nothing? My fingers dug into my knees and I cried in a criminal carelessness. Some of the men ordered me to shut up, but I simply wept on, crumpling my lips so that the howling sobs could not be released, so that they came in hiccupping squeals.

"You know nothing!" I ached, "Nothing!"

"Oh, but I do Maerien." He sighed, leaning back sultry.

This was the last I heard of him, before I cried myself to sleep, lying upon the leaves of a sodden forest, desperation my only companion.


	11. Chapter 11

(Dredaus is pronounced: Dreh-daw-us)

Maerien woke to the heavy drop of metal on metal, men bustling around in hurried motions, horses grunting and whinnying as they prepared for the day. A brief thought went towards the fear of moving further and further from Rohan, but was there any point in worrying anymore? I was as good as finished, and the cheerless monotony of my life suddenly sunk deep in my stomach, turning my lips upwards in sour hatred.

"Up," Cairion ordered brusque, and grabbed me by the arm gruffly, pulling me to a stand. I blinked, feeling my limbs stretch from their frozen position. I shivered still, captivated by the sights and sounds of the camp transforming into a hundred men ready and raring on the backs of grayscale horses.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice brimming with a determination not my own. I watched as each and every man and sole tent was packed away, almost as if there was never a camp here. In fact, you'd have to look very hard to even find the remnants of the bonfire that had left a sulky thick of smoke in the air overhead, intoxicating the lungs.

I watched as Cairion saddled his horse, and saw that his eyes travelled across to where his leader was, dark and devious, till he swung himself atop the horse, still locked in eye contact with the bearded leader.

I stood rigid, battered by the winds now picking up, while the sky bled a pale color across everything so that even if I'd wanted to believe it a dream, things were all too realistic to fade away from my mind.

Cairion pulled me atop the behind of his horse, extending his arms to pick me up and place me behind him. I squirmed under his touch, but couldn't do anything about it, because my hands, I'd realized, were tied tightly with rope still. I blinked away the brightness of the morning, the frame of my body plastered to the back of Cairion as if the ice that I felt in my bones served as a glue between the heat of two bodies. But being so close to one so cold did not help the matter, and as we started off in a chorus of deeply resonating gallops, I clung to Cairion's waist, teeth chattering and body jostling about. My mind wept.

The tears I would have otherwise cried were mute, and the trail of what would have been slick tears pooled in my eyes but did not fall. As I sat behind the body of a southern warrior, cowering and being forced to enter my home of birth. Coerced. Captured. I promised myself one thing, one crucial thing, and then I told myself to hide away my heart, numb myself to the world around me. This I could do…for him. But only for him. I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to keep Rohan safe. No; to keep him safe. Eomer. I could feel the numbness settling in, and with a resentful shut of my eyes, I felt the pulse of the horses gallop, the wind return to my hair, whipping my face and arms, and the out of control feeling jostled me once more, but I showed no response.

I would not, for there was nothing more for me to say or do, other than keep him safe. To keep those I was loyal to safe. Where I was going, I would not care, all I could do was swallow my fears and keep things in perspective.

I did not see the path that we tread for hours on end, nor could I recall the infrequent breaks we took, wherein Cairion offered me dried meat, which I pushed away as he shoved it against my lips gruffly. I held myself, and allowed myself to be left alone. Alone was what I'd always been, and would always be until I was back unto his arms. My insides bled. But I did not suffer outwardly, and though men spoke spiteful words towards me on these short breaks, I did not respond. I suppose my tears had dried away, and my emotions had settled in me, but were unable to attack.

There was one time I felt a pinch of fear. I sat against a tree, waiting for Cairion to hasten for leave, when a troupe of men sauntered towards me. They were high ranking soldiers, I could tell by the emblems upon their breastplates. I did not look up, though I could feel their eyes boring in to my very being.

"How do you think a traitor should be dealt with?" One man spoke to the others. I felt my eyes loll towards the forest floor, and I began to stare into the frail fabric of my gown, now matted with leaves and grass.

"I know what she deserves…" One said.

"She's ours now. Cairion isn't watching…" One injected, and the men raced forward, pulling at my skirts, hiking them up as I clenched my jaw and allowed them to part my legs without even a struggle, until;

There was a foul stench that rung up through the air, metallic and crippling. I felt the liquid sputter up along my cheek and chin, and then the men fell back to view what had just transpired. One man was slit through the belly, and he fell to the ground, gurgling before me.

I did not move, and as though frozen in time, no one said or did anything as the body fell to the ground. I swallowed, heart racing with fervent hostility, eyes drawn to the man who stood over the scene with a complacent weight to his brows.

Standing there, breathing surly, was Cairion.

He'd saved me from sexual violation, killing off one of his own men. My eyes widened to saucers, and my heart lurched unwillingly. Tears pooled in my eyes, but did not fall. What were the use of them, in any case? My stone cold body felt no pain, nor emotion, and as Cairion yelled angrily in to their faces, I heard not a word. But his voice was loud and enveloping. The men did not test him further, and retreated with a wounded valor.

I almost smirked unfeelingly, but thought better of it when Cairion glanced down at me.

"You need to stay by my side at all times. Understand?" His voice was dry, and I simply nodded, and for a second I imagined him as Eomer, with concern etching his face.

This was enough to break me, and I held my head in my hands and wept.

"Come on. Stop it," Cairion demanded, but my head hung low and rested upon my knees, my shoulders gesticulating. The pain was too much to bear, and I knew that once I got to the Southern Palace I was done for.

"Please…" I whispered, "Just leave me in peace."

I was allowed the peace that I desired, as Cairion trudged away with anger stationed upon his face. Not that I cared, I was too contorted by the sadness stabbing me from within. It took many days until I was ready to listen to anyone, and fortunately the first day I regained myself- was the day we arrived in the Southern city.

"Make way for Dredaus's army and their steeds!" Came a prominent dictation, and the gates flew up in clamorous mechanism. My eyes widened as I saw the fortifications of their city, so unbreakable and…I sighed. My heart broke into pieces I could not manage, and all I could do was breathe and soak in the dislodged calamity within myself.

Cairion was at the front of the group, and I sat behind him, hugging his back reluctantly. It had become normalcy to feel the heat of this enemies body, so close and so cautious less. Cairion and I had become quite close, if you count the pathetic silent bonds we held close to one another- I for his protection- he for his job. If he failed it was known that he would lose all respect in the eyes of their general. I had made this connection without much thought, and dawned a new understanding of the irritated man who was- Cairion.

He reminded me of Eomer in ways I couldn't describe, and in all honesty, these resemblances saved me breath. It hurt too much to think of the days just prior of this pitfall of horror. But what could I do? I was prisoner. The only way to escape, was to work from within. I knew this to the core of me, and recalled Eowyn's fond advice, or, her airy statements she spoke of when initiating her love affair with Faramir.

"If you cannot breach his walls by sheer force, well…my dear Maerien, there's always a separate route…to become one of them- disguise yourself and play their weaknesses. It's the only card you have with men."

Of course I could recall myself nodded dimly, silent and meek in my servant garb, scrubbing the floors with a rag until they shone pearly and luminous. The way they shimmered against the candle light, that was my only 'force', I'd supposed. I had naught a penny to me, and the services I had managed about the kingdom were my only 'pride' if I had any.

As we trampled through the lower city, passing shops and many triumphant and goading commoners, I realized that they all looked like me. From the olive skin, to the deep slate eyes, and long wavy chocolate brown hair. There was no variation, and ever so often I'd meet eyes with one of them. It was like seeing deadly conviction, staring it in the eye. I felt…home.

"Welcome home! Whore of Rohan!" A gang of men threw clots of mud upon me, and Cairion's horse startled, angering the man upon the horse so that his brows furrowed and he waved away the men in heated breaths, and tore forth, trekking through the narrow streets until the masses of people disintegrated and the landscape began to change. The expanse was fresh, and well maintained. Further off, you could see the castle beyond a skirt of wall.

We were ahead of the group, and I felt my stomach stir.

"Cairion…" I began.

He glanced back slightly, but kept his face firmly ahead.

"Please…let me go."

Cairion's horse sputtered to a halt, and he glared back at me, shock present in his eyes, "Are you mad? All I have to say is be silent, and do as King Dredaus says. If your half as good at this as you have been, you'll be fine." His voice was angry, filled with resentful malice that offended me.

"What do you speak of?" I hissed, "If I'm 'good at this'? Mind your tongue, Sir."

"You know what I'm talking about…" He kicked his horse and told the guards to open the gates, in which they responded dutifully

"What?" I gasped, once we were out of hearing distance, my head ringing with agitation.

"I saw you let them just…move you. You've a scheme in you…and I'm not going to buy your disgusting act. You knew what would happen if you let them! You knew…and you know how to give those eyes…you are a King's fool, that much is definite. Lord knows how your going to worm your way into Dredaus's quarters…"

My eyes shut momentarily, as I allowed the burn to settle in my skin. His words were poison, sifting through my skin as venom, and what could I say? At this point, my life and love had been ripped from beneath me, and now false accusations were being woven. What was I to do at this point? Defensive strings of recoiling hatred were poised upon my tongue, but were not released. I allowed a silence to broil between us, and I clasped my hands in front of him, my entire being on fire.

The lies spun in my head, and dread created a film over my tongue, that of fear and a defeat that I could not describe.

"That is what you suppose…" I managed to respond upon a shaking breath, "Not what is true."

As we approached the Castle, we dismounted the horse, and followed the officials into the audience chambers, set in a room partially outside. I was perspiring, and Cairion held on to my wrist with violent commitment, tugging me along. By the time we reached our places, Cairion handed me over to a guard standing at the side of the audience chamber, a grim set to his face. Fear raced through me, and I lurched towards Cairion.

"No…don't leave me, please…" I whispered into his ear in pathetic pleadings, but he paid me no heed, and gripped me by the hair, tilting my face so that his hot breath licked my lips like flames, and his eyes peered into my own gray, searching coldly through me.

"Don't try your tricks here fool. Your luck has run out. I'll be watching you."

That was the last I saw of Cairion the boy. But the first I saw of Dredaus, the man.

King was he; but a barbarian that I knew would change the way things were. I could use him…and because Cairion had accused me of being a charmer, what harm was there in toying with a man's emotions…to get what I needed?

Only to save Eomer, I vowed, allowing the new guard to take hold of me, and welcoming this new place in 'courtly life'.


	12. Chapter 12-15 (Sorry for the delay)

Subject to ease

He peered down at me with a raised brow, inquisitive and hearty. A beard pooled down his chin, and he clasped his hands behind himself, his belly protruding as he stood a little straighter, his robes fitting closely and crinkling in folds about his feet.

I stood alone, at the center of the audience chamber, my spine rigid. My hands hung like weights at my side, and I did not dare gaze up into the King's eyes. He was a meaty fellow, with black beady eyes, and straight black hair that braided down his back, while his crimped beard was graying along the edges. His brows were arched and fierce, and when he called my name, I nearly gasped in surprise.

"Maerien." He spoke harshly, willing me to meet his eyes.

I did just so, dragging my pupils up the length of his body, until they met his black almond eyes.

"Ah, as beautiful as her mother…don't you agree men?"

The men around the room all crowed and shared enthusiastic agreement. My face went white. What was going to happen? My hands trembled at my sides, and I wanted to vomit. The pressure against my stomach was more than enough to double a woman over, but I stood, as straight as I could, with an expression of pain etched upon my face.

"What do you want of me!" I spoke, loud enough for Dredaus to hear, but low enough that the men became silent, as to hear what I had to say. I could hardly discern my own voice, as it was so shaky and brittle against the assaulting aura of the faces around me, peering at me like insatiable dogs. I had to stay firm in this, assure them that I was nothing to be toyed with. Though, they'd toy with me if they very well liked. If there was one thing I'd learned about men, it was that they got what they wanted, even if there was a fuss.

"Oh, my dear…" Dredaus looked mildly startled, now hugging his belly with a twisted coyness, "You are here to save us!"

I laughed harshly, the low syllables of my chuckle like knives hitting upon stone; brash and gravelly. He seemed to look upon me as if I were a naïve child, someone that would not understand a thing if it were explained to her. Little did he even know! I wished to tear open that protruding gut, and mount his head on a spear. The sickening breath that he spoke in was just as good as a rapturous poison, stalling all vitals as I attempted for find middle ground.

"Save you?" I bought my time, asking the question warily, "Why would I ever wish to do such a thing?"

"Well, you see my dear, you are such a profound asset. Your place amongst the Kingdom of Rohan, being the King's whore, was perfect for us. If you acknowledge the fact that this so called 'King', erm…what is it, 'loves' you, well, darling, it is only natural that we should contact him and hold you as a hostage. And what a gloriously prosperous hostage you've seemed to be!"

I stared icily at him, inquisitive and confused.

"Don't pretend as if this love for you is real, now. He is doing Rohan a favor by entering this war. And if you alone, your life as a threat to take, was enough to pressure him into it? Don't be so assured of his love. He must save you, for his people. So. We told him if he prepared for war in a months time, and paid a mighty sum for your release, we'd keep you in good comfort here, until the war is finished. Of course, he did not agree. He spake- 'you must set Maerien free, before the war!' Can you imagine what our reply would be?" He smirked lecherously.

At this moment, tears pooled in my eyes. Their words of Eomer were too much to bear, and I shuddered, staring up at the King, my eyes locked on his, as tears streamed down my cheekbones, and down the hollows of my cheeks, settling in a pool of moisture above my lips. Sharps gasps came from me as I sobbed, holding it in, yet feeling torrents of anguish envelope me like a shroud of silk, fitting my form with perfection. He continued speaking, a smile on his face, as he watched the tears.

"He knew we'd decline. Which is why, he bargained that if he entered war, we allow him to send ten of his warriors to protect you. To grant you with the highest of hospitality, and he sent gifts, to be seen in your bedchambers. We, being humble men, can understand the short-lived infatuation a whore can bring you, and so allowed this. Upon your stay here, my men will not touch a hair on your pretty little head."

My eyes widened, and I swallowed and opened my lips as if to speak, but was cut off by his stale continuity.

"His ten warriors arrived two nights ago, with chest upon chest of doting presents!" He laughed in high spirits, "You are a lucky little charmer now, aren't you. As for Eomer, he sends his regards, and promises he will set you free in…" He glanced towards his vizier, "what was it, three weeks?" This sent a spiral of wheezing laughter out of his lungs, and I flinched, my tears having halted.

"Three weeks, you have to stay here, apparently. You will receive meals three times a day," The King murmured, "But don't think, just because you have your ten warriors, that I won't call upon you. You seem to be quite the entertainer, I hear. Singing, and such. Nevertheless…" He snapped his fingers, "Take her to her room."

Some of his men swaggered forth, taking me by the arms, and thrusting me forward, I attempted an awkward bow, and then was being led up stairs, through stone corridors lit by candles in brackets, and in to a tower, where along the hallway ascending, there were large vacant spaces of window. The sun was at its highest point, and I felt its rays touch my hair and face, and for the first time in the days prior, I felt a small smile of victory upon my lips.

How victory could be seen in my eyes, would seem foolish to another. As if a man in the eye of a hurricane would not soon be punished, when the hurricane shifts just degrees to the side, and he would be engulfed by the power, and smashed to smithereens. But this victory settled in my gut like a warm honey gauze, as if I was untouchable. Eomer had made it possible, and I told myself no matter what happened, there was hope. As long as there was evidence of him, I'd survive. Though the idea of this was daunting, perhaps frightening when I looked back upon my selfish reasoning. Where was my self alliance?

Usually birds learn to fly by their mother's instruction. Having no mother, was I not submitted to a life of blundering through the air, without guidance? And if I so chose to learn how, it now would be too late. Eomer was mine. I had found my healthy medium, or rather…my obsession for so long, turned unto a fantastical flare of reality.

Obsessions can be so horrific, and in realistic terms, distasteful to the persons image. But as I arrived on the footsteps of the room he'd prized out of the gloom of war, especially for me, was my obsession not worth the pining, the aching, the agony over those years? I swooned over these thoughts, knowing that moments later, in a more darker mood to come, I'd be freezing these thoughts over with the dead ash of resentment towards myself, holding on to the fact that I had caused this war. Me. The irreversible problem.

As the guards swung the glassy wood door open, my jaw dropped.

Laid across the floors were fur rugs, lined with silk. The floor plan was aromatic, spacious, and my large, illustrious bed was furnished on a higher level, with steps transcending the line between my bedroom, and living space. The bed was circular, swathed in rich blue silk, pillows the color of gold lined at its bedpost. Above it, hung lacy aqua drapes, so that at night I could shut them if I pleased. At the foot of the bed, there was a trunk splayed open like a ripe goblet of jewels, overflowing with nightgowns and shoes, the richest of shades and fabrics.

In one corner of the room, was a vanity, carved out of white stone, with a full length, oval mirror, studded with diamonds set beside it. Along the vanity, was an array of jewelry in lovely boxes, and make-ups, elixirs, and creams. In another corner, there stood a grand armoire, stalwart and trusting, its contents displayed, showing gowns I'd never seen any woman of Rohan wear, or ever have the wealth to afford. To the right of this, was a gigantic fireplace, already heated and stoked to perfection.

At the half-way mark, the steps being this, the larger portion of the room began. There was a small ornate table, dressed in lavish tablecloth, and having one gold plate, with a fork, spoon, and knife set beside it. Then, a golden goblet, and a smaller glass above. Across from the plate, was a set of cards, and other games to play.

From here, there was an opening between two large cushiony chairs, there was a towering bookshelf, full to the brim with ripe pages. Along the eastern side, there was a long rectangular window, where I could practically see the whole panorama of Kingdom. What surprised me more, was that there was a separate room for washing and using toiletries.

Then, at the center of the room, I saw something stir. I jolted when I understood what it was, but was shocked nonetheless. It was a puppy, with fur like white cloud, and longing eyes. I stepped across the threshold, allowing the grace of Eomer to settle, hardly being able to believe it myself. I stepped forth, picking up the pup with a gentle hand, and stroking its head and back as I swiveled on my toes, a mere pauper, to the regalia of the room. He'd put up paintings of Rohan, of sweet fabled paradise, and scenes I'd only dream of.

Then I noticed the ten guards, standing dutifully at my service. The door shut behind me, and they bowed, showing their loyalty. It was not their place to question my worth, only to follow orders. Though I must wonder if what they saw when I entered, was a disgusting mass of rags and bones.

For a moment, I wished that he'd sent a woman, but the thought was far too selfish, and I would never allow myself that under these circumstances.

"Milady Maerien, we drew a bath for you, seeing as you must be weary from your travels." One man said, and I nodded, slightly incomprehensive to Eomer's kindness.

"Afterwards, when you are ready, we have word from King Eomer. He sent a letter addressed for your eyes alone, but he instructed us that you must be in full comforts before you read it."

So, standing in a tower above my enemies, treated as a Queen might be, I took a bath. I cleansed the grime away, and used the soaps and oils that Eomer had sent. The smells reminded me of Rohan, and in a moments time, I recalled how much I missed it. It wasn't only Eomer, but my home.

I was able to dress in something plainer than the glamorous medium of dresses, a russet gown that fanned out behind me, its sleeves hitting the floors in their length. I also took it upon myself to awkwardly slip into comfortable white slippers, and from a knob on the wall, chose a white shawl to wrap about my shoulders.

As I made the transformation, I felt as a Princess must, having so many options, all of the prime prospects. The men stood around me as I sat in a chair, and one stepped forward, handing me a thick wrap of parchment. The letter seemed to vibrant between my fingers, as if, if I wasn't careful enough, it would disintegrate like sand between my fingertips, falling to the floors in a cascade.

But it did not fall, and I managed to pry it open, and begin to read, my heart lurching. What was I to think? This had all snaked its way into existence almost like a venomous rain, clawing and ripping at all known stability, until…this. Eomer had saved me from who knows what, allowing me a freedom that luxury envied.

My breathing quickened, and for a second, I recalled the butterflies. I'd been so consumed with my capture, that all excitement had drained from me, and the love that had blossomed from him over the years grew within me, like flame kindled from the interior of my being. Eomer. I recalled his scent, his hands, his walk, his soft tone, his concerned expressions, and a smile was brought to me.

Unraveling the message, I blinked down on few words.

Maerien,

What does a man write in such a situation?

The pain that I feel in your absence, is nothing in comparison to the remorse I feel for what I've done. I must tell you. This is no fault of yours. You must understand this, before you place the blame on your own shoulders, since I know you to do so.

You will be safe now. I have made sure of it. The King there seems to play this war as if it is some child's game, allowing things I'd never thought possible. But then I think of how I myself would handle it. Mercy has always been my downfall, many have told me. But the mercy of our enemies, has allowed you life.

Maerien. My heart hurts. I don't know how to describe your loss, but it is something that is unshakable. I can only imagine the suffering you've been put through on my account. My dear one, you are strong. You will survive, long enough for me to break down the gates of Dredaus's fortress and wreak havoc to their cities, and rescue you.

You are the love of my life. I trust that you will have courage, and do nothing to anger the King. You are in a precarious position, but one of great importance. You, my dear one, have been given the eyes of a spy, along with the ten men he allowed to stay.

Oftentimes I climb to the towers, and watch the sunrise. My thoughts are always of you, in these moments. In every moment I am breathing. Upon your return, I plan to make you my Queen. You are my only love. You are mine, and I am yours- eternally.

Love,

- Eomer

What sorrow was left within me, it did not show itself. I simply rested my face against the paper, cool against my skin, as thoughts rushed about my head. So much indifference. He must be facing cold tragedy, though hope seemed to fill his words.

My jaw snapped shut, and my elbows rested on my knees. His voice was so strong, so ready in those written words. I could hear him, almost as if he stood before me. No. That was too much. Imagining him here, beside me would take all sanity from what I'd scrounged up so far. My gut churned. Oh, my dear Eomer. His reassurance slaked my fear, and as the minutes passed in heavy floods of thought, I found that I was shaking.

Queen. He desired me to be…Queen. Suddenly I couldn't help but glare at the floor. In all honesty, how could he see me in such a rank? A servant of Lady Eowyn! Did he understand what he was choosing, who he chose to love, to trust enough to put in such a powerful position? Was this grandeur of splendor because he wanted me to look, and play the part? How could I, without feeling unworthy? How could I go in to such an arrangement, sitting here against the cold structure of a chair, heart beating as an engine might, in the middle of a War, captured by the enemy- without feeling completely and utterly foolish? Me? Queen?

A dry smile came to my lips. No. I could never become her. A Queen is strong. Brave, clever, loving, and a pinnacle of unrealistic figurativeness- that I, being who I was, could never be. An image of me, standing before the crowds of commoners came to mind. Who could deny that that image was fanciful? Anyone could say; yes! I want that! That will be me, because my lover said it would! The ultimatum, is looking at the picture correctly. Staring into my eyes in that image, the picture so pristine and colorful in my mind, gave me a sense of dread that added to the multitude of fears. That girl in the image, was not Maerien. Her smile strung too wide. Her eyes glowed with a vivid amorousness; one that all loved an adored without question.

The true picture would be this.

I would stand before them all, attempt a smile, playing the part as it is asked of me. But my brows would lower. I would be uncomfortable. The confidence the True Queen has, would synchronize as I tried my hardest to be her, until the truth of my being ranted forth, and squashed all confidence, and masked diligence I had built for myself. The people would laugh; who could look up to such a foolish woman? The King's whore! Who could obey her commands? Who would sponsor our love, and approve of me, a servant turned 'Queen'? There would be riots. My right to the throne was none; and I would not arise from amidst my squalor of blackened hearts.

To love him was one thing…to ascend was another.

And oh, how I loved that man. How the years had strung my attachments to him in an array of ways. His separateness from the rest of the men was something that always stood out, as well as the natural respect he demanded from the others. He was a shell of hardened pride and fury, but beneath his masculine veil, hid a commiseration for the rest of the earth that I saw. His mercy. His love. His insecurities…and then his stubborn side, his shortness of temper, his lack of understanding the female mind.

"Milady, what are your orders?" One of the guards asked with respite.

I pulled myself up, dazed from his words, almost as if they'd drugged me. A mixture of potent emotions squabbled inside me, and I hardly was able to respond.

"One of you, stay here. The rest, I ask that you blend in. Listen. Befriend who you can in this Castle…but be cautious of the King's men. Do not seem blatant, but…erm, just report to me before sundown, and we shall discuss certain things."

At once they assented, giving approval in nods and murmurs, and were off. One man was appointed as the chamber guard, one of high report.

"Lady Maerien, I am Jaromir, Eomer's second in command, and an old childhood friend. He asked that I keep a special eye on you."

I nodded, softly confused by this, "Oh? Special meaning?"

"To assure that you make no mistakes, and to preserve you from men of this court. Vile fools," The man, Jaromir, chuckled, "No need to worry though, I will keep fair Queen-to-Be safe from harm."

He was being sarcastic yet serious all the same, but the statement hit me like a knife plunging through my heart. I did not return the amused aura, and simply nodded, turning towards the hearth. Beside it was a sewing kit, with many neat linens. I gasped, pulling the square of quilt Eomer had dropped on the steps so long ago from my bodice, then sat beside the trunk, preparing a project.

Chapter Thirteen:

I grew restless.

I spent hours working upon Eomer's quilt, relishing the quiet sanctities of my chamber. I waited patiently, building back my strength. Though I'd become malnourished and weak from the days prior, it did not take long to regain my strength. I'd need it in the upcoming events, due to the fact that Dredaus was plotting against me although he allowed me a certain simple freedom. I knew that he would do all that he could to destroy Eomer, that of which he had assumed to do through me.

Dredaus did not send for three days, allowing me time to prepare mentally for being called upon. The idea was distended within me in a voracious fashion. I complied only to meals, and even then I ate little. Yet, I was satisfied.

This was the dawning of a new time in my life. I was a prisoner amongst my enemies, yet the very servants I once was, looked up to me. I was a prisoner in a place of power; my prowess magnified in the light of my circumstances. I vowed that only for Eomer would I play the game that Dredaus had specially orchestrated, denying myself fear or any doubt. There was no room for such things. Regardless of the devious plot about me, I felt reassured. It was almost as if I had to set aside my emotions in order to perform the duties of mandatory prospect.

Little else mattered. I waited. I did not touch the games, nor did I find any pleasure in preparing myself. If it were not for the sporadic inclination that I might be called upon, then I would have stayed in bed all day, frantically waiting.

At one point, I found myself looking out the window, my hands peeling away the drapery so that light could stream forth. At sunset, I stared hollowly across the expanse of castle, of turrets and flags, then across the town and towards the forest. The black trees spiked the skies like skeletal remnants, obscuring the golden plains of my homeland. Everything was dead. Or so it seemed in the Southern land. Gray skies. The people were naturally sullen, as if they awaited each breath they took like a useless jarring impasse, hoping that someday death would claim them.

I'd become brittle in my attempts at cheerfulness. The sun had long faded into the boorish depths of the horizon, and it was always worse when night fell. I sat in my night robes, distressed and forlorn, a victim to insomnia. I held my pup close to my chest, allowing its feeble attempts at licking me to not waver the subliminal gray shroud that clouded me. I had named him Zanathe.

It was a Southern word that meant; Warrior.

My little Zanathe tried to nip at the quilt I worked endless hours upon, and often diverted my attention from the stationary pose I held in front of the fireplace. On night's I could not find sleep, I curled myself upon the fur rug before the fire, Zanathe nestled in the crook of my neck. He was my comfort in such a time.

I asked for no consolation from the guards, for speaking only wore me into a solemn state. I convinced myself that it was better to be quiet and jittering, than rather speaking and tired. Where had my strength gone?

A week passed. Still no sign of a play from Dredaus, or Eomer.

I beheld the idea of myself becoming stagnant, almost stale within my room. The guards had reported conversations with people to me, but it only aggravated my tenseness. There was nothing to be spoken, only hot air that made no sense to me. I became like a dead woman, only stirring from her bed when her name was called. When I spoke, I believe the men saw me with dispassionate angst. I answered their questions wistfully, without a cause or effect. They seemed to tire of my incomprehensive state, and fell back into caring for me on solid terms. They only reported when I was sitting, and they spoke in terms that they presumed might aide me in my decline of self care.

Then one day, the sun was shining. I stood, my bare feet hitting the floor after hours of a sleepless night, void of all emotion or thought. I glanced in the mirror, my crow black hair a wild mass that tumbled down my shoulders and hit my waist. I sat at the vanity, hating my image. Where had my courage gone? As the time passed, it was almost as if the very life was sucked from me. I'd become cold, like the stone urchins that infested this Kingdom.

Perhaps I belonged here, I wondered, twining a curl about my fingertip, perhaps this was who I was meant to be. Careless, without an emotion. I'd never felt this before, and I wondered if Rohan was simply what made me so alive. Or perhaps I was a slave to my passion, and now that all that I loved had been ripped out from under me, who I was had dissolved into the floor, eating away the very flesh of my soul.

But then I sighed. I smelled the ripe winds, fresh and propelling into my room. I looked once again at my reflection. I had to do something. I must.

As dangerous as dancing on a cliff can be, there can be many benefits, can there not? I styled my hair into a loose fashion, but away from my face so that I appeared clean and practically severe. I dressed in a cobalt blue gown, one that accentuated the waist. I then pinched my cheeks, driving blood into my high cheekbones.

Once ready, I kissed Zanathe and had a man named Raehar escort me to the audience hall. I did not speak, and left Raehar in confusion, blindly following me as I perused onwards without purpose. I fled between the columns, pacing myself until I reached the courts.

The people's stares collected on my figure, and I was aware of their eyes lingering on me until my path was blocked. I halted, my eyes fixed on a leather jerkin, a black cloak hitting the floors. I looked up.

Cairion stood before me, his hair matted and his face crusted with a film of oils. I lifted my chin in distain. I held out my hand as to stall Raehar from removing the animal in front of me. Anything Cairion had to say, I now could disarm him with my victory.

"Sir Cairion," I nodded.

"Maerien," his eyes flicked down my body, and then back to my eyes. I stared coldly, "I see they've treated you well thus far."

"A rarity, I've been told," I say smugly.

"So it may seem. Has Lord Dredaus seen you yet?" He pushes the purpose that had been the spurning for my outing. I clench my hands on the fabric of my dress, my face possibly porcelain.

"He shall in a moment," I nod.

"Typical of a concubine, don't you think?" he sneered.

"If I were a concubine, you'd be the King's harlot," I dare say, my anger flaring.

"No amount of entitlement can change who you are. A whore. King Eomer shall realize essentially soon that no woman is worth waging a war over. He will eventually let you go. He will allow you to vanish into the background, without so much as remorse. He has his people to think of. What is one woman, compared to the safety of thousands more?"

Cairion's words were a knife to my gut, and I gasped.

"And when he does relinquish his hold over you in Dredaus's courts, I shall be the first to suggest your death."

He sidestepped me, his lips inches from my neck. I breathed in shudders, turning to Raehar, who acknowledged my fear with a burning anger on his red whiskers. I blinked, lowering my chin and fanning a hand across my chest. I swallowed.

Cairion did not know me. He couldn't pretend as if he understood the pretense of things. If anything, it would be Dredaus cultivating a plot to get me. This thought sickened me, and I sighed, letting my breath out. I needed to be clear headed as I went to entertain the King. If I could gain his approval, or favoritism perhaps I could help Eomer on his conquest.

I quickly regained my purposeful stride, hands firmly fitted to my thighs as I raced for the audience hall. The people stared. Their eyes were sullen and bagged like prunes. Nevertheless, I felt almost flamboyant in my blue dress. I could help Eomer…couldn't I? He'd given me the tools to do so, now why did I feel so stuck?

When I entered the audience hall, eyes flicked towards me at once. The King, beady eyes and all, stood with a domineering force, and he beckoned me silently.

"The mouse has dared leave her hole," He muttered cheekily, alight with amusement.

"Your Highness," I curtsied low, and he watched my movements.

"How are you faring in my courts? I presume you have had no troubles with the men?" he asked frigidly.

"None. As of yet," I supplied. It was a shock to hear him speak so openly of treating me rightly in his own courts. I being his prisoner, it was a confusing stigma to the situation.

"Then I shall be the first to be hostile!" He grinned, "No, I would not treat a Lady as such. My dear girl, you are something of a rarity here. I intend to keep you unspoiled."

"What be your reasoning?" I dared ask.

"Why, you shall figure them out eventually. Come. Walk with me."

He lead me out into the chilling air, the south-winds cutting my face and neck with a viciousness that stunned. Discomfort settled in my bones as I set in stride with the King, his crown aged and yet gleaming in the foggy light.

Eomer had never worn a crown. I had yet to see him in such a state, as he was overly involved in the war matters. He allowed his men to attend to other courtly things. Of course, I'd known his course of actions to be so because of my servant-hood. I could recall noting upon how the court was run, my mind fastidiously culminating trains of delegating that were done.

We walked through the gardens, none as wild or exotically beautiful as Rohan's. I pressed my face to the bud of a rose, willing its scent to my nostrils, but the cold air seemed to ice the amorous smell, and when I looked up, Dredaus was staring in fascination.

"A rose with little scent?" He questioned.

I nodded, partially embarrassed.

"Your mother would be intrigued to see what a woman you have become," His voice was gruff and slick, and he cleared his throat.

What was he saying? That my mother was alive? I felt my heart shoot to my throat, and my brows furrowed. What did this mean? Was she here? Had he done something with her? How did he know her? Question upon question filed to my tongue, and I eyed him with livened intrigue.

"You knew my mother?" I questioned idly, my fingers trailing along a thorn.

"Not personally, no. But I heard rumors of her debauchery. At the time, I was young. The young men in the courts all spoke of her as if she were a heathen, sent from hell to steal their hearts," He chuckled warmly, "She was a prostitute."

Nausea rose to the creases of my lips, and my stomach squalled. I held my palm firmly to my abdomen, willing the nausea to wane. A prostitute? It wasn't the idea of her giving herself to any man that would give her money, it was the prospect of the disrespect that she may have endured. I did not blame her, and suddenly felt an unusually cruel chill sift down my spine. I glared at the King, and suddenly images of men in the past trekked past my eyes. They were vile pigs, thieving imps. Was my mother forced into that position? Did she really have a choice? Sadness welled in my chest, and I had to turn from the King's sniveling face as to contrarily sigh out of anger.

"Her name?" I asked, recalling her sweet face; the furthest memory I could conjure. A prostitute. An innocent.

"Her name was Maedria, as I recall. She bore two sons to my brother, as well as you."

I froze, face glazing white. I suppose I must have looked eternally stunned, almost as if nothing could correct the ghostly shock that had slithered to my face. Dredaus chuckled again, this time a malevolent, curling laugh that transpired in his belly. A rippling coldness descended upon us, and I pulled my shawl tighter, trembling.

"What?" I shuddered.

"You presume to believe that the reason we allowed you such finery in our own walls, was because of the love of our enemy? The love of Eomer was not what kept you safe. His gifts and soldiers would not have been tolerated if it were not for our knowledge of you. Of who you really are, Maerien."

I could not speak. My tongue was dry.

"Although, being the treasonous wench that you are, I'd hoped not to rebirth this bit of history," He cleared his throat, apparently angered now, "No need to worry, my brother has no desire to see you. Be that as it may, we have no intention of letting you return to Rohan."

Fear crumbled my anger, and a crestfallen dejection stirred within me. I could not be trapped here. I would not be! I was a prisoner. Although my father may have been highly recognized, he did not wish to see me. I also had two brothers in the court. His words echoed in my mind, devious and despairing. My heart ached suddenly, and I fell to my knees, tears spilling from the glassy stone gray of my eyes.

"Maerien!" His voice seemed far away, almost as if I'd crossed into another world.

My hands met the earthy path, and I sat still, silent sobs tearing from my mouth.

"Where is she?" I heard myself demand through the torrents.

"Restrain yourself lady! Who do you speak of?"

"My mother!" I bellow.

"Up with you! Up I say! Stand Maerien," The King ordered.

I could not hear. Only feel the treacherous loss of my family. I had none that wanted me. None that loved. I was trapped in my supposed homelands, a place in which they'd rather kill me than give me up to Eomer. Oh…Eomer. I sobbed hysterically into my palms.

Let me go. Let me go! My mind shrieked.

"Stand!" my Uncle slapped me.

I turned away from him, hiding my face in my palms. The pain did not register. All I could feel was a determined loss. A loss that overcame and plagued me with the insanity of doubt. My heart murmured tremulously, and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to return to Rohan. I wanted to feel Eomer's arms around me, to feel the softness of his hands caressing my hair, to make him smile, to feel the safety of his love. I buckled beneath the weight of my passions, and I shook, tears staining my very being.

"Your mother was stoned to death," he answered finally, and I fainted.

Chapter Fourteen

I awoke to the stench of blood. My neck ached from being twisted for so long, and my lips were cracked and dry. I could feel the crust of blood like a fiery film on my forehead and taste the rust in the creases of my mouth. My hair was matted and tangled, a filthy black plume around my skull.

I lay on the cold stone floor of a cell. My cobalt blue gown was tattered now, and mottled by grime. I sat up, the weight of my appendages stealing my balance as I struggled to hold my neck up. The profusion of tears that had been quenched from my eyes left a solid sting to my face, and my vision was blurry. My eyes were swollen, puffed, and tender to the touch.

I grew confused. Why was I here? I could hear my heartbeat shallow beneath my ribs. Confusion etched my soul, and I stood, noticing that my entire body ached.

A flashback from the day before entered my mind, and all I could recall was my hysteria. The truth of what was came like a fog over my mind, and I did not want to accept what Dredaus had spoken. I could not think of it. Not now.

"Hello?" My voice was groggy, spoiled by the gravel of pain.

"Lady Maerien," It was Jaromir, flanked by two of the other men. They were dressed in cloaks.

"What is the meaning of this?" I attempted to sound demanding, when in all truth I sounded as if I were a small child fearing for her life.

"Dredaus changed his mind. He had your things burned."

"What's to become of me?" My tone was much graver.

"He's declared you his prisoner now. There was talk of execution. His new desire is to see you work as a servant to the warriors. A man named Cairion claimed you."

I do not think that I had enough strength to feel much more sadness. I'd parched my heart of feeling, and now I was back unto my stone like mannerisms. I flinched upon Cairion's name, wondering what plans he had for me.

"They say that many men and women accompany the warriors to battle for pleasure purposes. They also execute children and women each night before the war."

The men looked strained, as if their courage had been lost.

"So, I suppose Ciarion thinks he's going to get his way then. He'll no doubt try to kill me. Hah. He's got no idea…what lengths I will go to…" My voice was powerful. I looked up into their eyes, "Let us give them a war. A battle so ferocious that they don't even know what has hit them."

There was a new extrapolating electric feel to the air. I would do what I had to. And I waited, oh, I waited. I waited like my life depended on it…which it honestly did. I was emerging. The shell I held for so long was shed. I cast her aside, and then I smiled. I was about to take control.

Or, lose it.

Either way, Cairion wouldn't know what was coming.

The sense of empowerment I felt was duly grating upon the nerves I had long reserved for times like these, but it allowed me peace. The power I now felt, the responsibility and knowledge of what was- it gave me a complex of intent. I would drown myself with the victories of Rohan. I was the daughter of the Southern King, now fighting against all its concordances.

The day passed bitterly, and when the sun had finally reached its place behind the spiked trees and gnarled hills, they came for me. I and my men were took in chains, weighting us down as we dragged ourselves into the back of a caravan with no windows, save a small barred window at the back. I found my hands wired through the bars, the whites of them stiff and pulsing. I hated the very life that surrounded me. When I turned back to Eomer's men, they would not meet my eyes. I sighed out of distress, livid. My face was bony now, corrupt by the exhaustion of life.

The caravan rattled on the roads, hurdling stones and rocking violently beneath a sea of dirt and grass. Where there had been no path before, we carved it easily. The Southern horses pounded on, and at one point I thought we'd tip over. But we maintained our level, and I settled against the wall next to Jaromir. I became tired through the night, but I kept my eyes wide, bloodshot, searching through the void of eternity in front of me. I know that the men must have thought that I had gone off the deep end, but I honestly had never thought it had come to this. That the servant of Rohan's court, who secretly loved a King would find love, be captured, and sold to a soldier to return to her place as a slave once again. I never thought that I would want to fight, never assumed that I would ever claw my way to a prowess this grand. I held myself to a higher standard. There was more to me than this…this ebony blanket of fervor.

"Milady, we've arrived." A strained voice coddled my ears, and it did not hit me until the door was jarred wide, and a warrior had thrown me out the door onto the ground. My face hit the dirt, and I spit out grass. I winced, but did not cry out. Better to portray quiet humility than loud destruction. Black shining boots stomped to my eye level, and I glanced upward. Cairion stared down.

"Careful with the whore, she's already damaged goods."

I could see the tenseness in the men, and I struggled to my feet. Cairion nodded his head at me, and beckoned me to follow. I seethed, but maintained a calm face. I had to convince him that I'd given up. His words could not hurt me. I must retain the feeling of loss, and slowly, secretly…let my plan unfold. It would come when it was ready.

He led me through the bustling campsite. White canvas tents had sprung up throughout the forest, and scouts thundered through the exterior on horseback, calling, shouting orders. Men pounded metal in an informal blacksmith, and glared at me as I passed. Their eyes were all cold, and I silently prayed that I did not resemble one of them. My poor mother. This was a race of stone, of discoloration and twisted fate. I did not belong, and never would.

As they passed through crowds of uproariously volatile men, she saw a hoard of slave women being forced to dance, the men were poking them with sticks if they didn't dance, and singing horrible songs, slapping their legs, and guzzling robust drinks that left a haze in the air as thick as mist. The scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol was heavy, and the light of day only made it all the more real. Child servants sat chained to posts along the way, and I pitied them. My heart found an aching resilience, and I wanted to free them all at that moment. If only. But, I couldn't. I had to follow, and my eyes were wrenched away from the dancing women, into a throng of men, and then onto a larger white tent.

I was pushed through the open threshold, and Cairion immediately left me to stand alone. He went to the back of the tent and splashed water onto his face, the face that was always dirty. I felt singular, almost small while waiting for him to take attention with me again. It was difficult, standing there, watching as he cleaned himself. I watched as he swallowed, and brought a blade out of its hilt. A jeweled hilt, precious stones delicately encrusted into its silver. I did not notice that he was meaning to cause fear in me, because I was so entranced by the jewels. But he made his way across the room, and held the razor sharp blade to my lips.

"Now you're mine…isn't that right, Maerien? It's humorous, really, how the tables turn," His breath was shallow, and his face was close to mine, "Don't be shy. Where's that voice of yours? Where be your inherent confidence?"

I swallowed, clasping my hands together over my abdomen, feeling extremely feeble. I did not look him in the eyes, only settled them across the square room onto his luxurious bed. The red fabric reminded me of lust, the blood of it. It would soon envelop him, and I did not want to be the one here to supply his need. It was disgusting, and I shuffled backwards. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to feel the passion, to encompass the feeling of being a true master. How I knew this, I could only sigh. But I would not give in to him. I would not be the whore that everyone labeled me to be.

"Silent? I'd assumed you'd give more of a fight." He slid the knife between my lips, and opened my mouth. I wanted to bite down, but I simply obeyed, "Come now, don't be this way. It's no fun…"

"Sir Cairion!" A man barged through the front door, and Cairion backed away from me, allowing me to slide to the floors in shock. Like a battered baby bird. I trembled.

"The council has been assembled. We are ready for you."

"I will be there shortly," Was his curt response. He turned back to me, and then raised me up by the arm. He then led me outside, into an open field where there was a collection of slave women shackled and wan, grouped together on posts. I lumbered through the grasses until I was staggering in front of five forlorn women. He chained me to the post at the north of the field, and shoved me down amongst the rest of them. How he saw me out of the rest of the women, I did not know. Our faces must have seemed to blur together.

"I'll be back for you," He muttered, and left us in the quiet of the forest, a hush so great it created a levity to the air. The women looked at me as if I were vermin, and for a moment I wondered if they knew who I was. In all reality, they probably did. With my luck, I was as famous as the King himself, in regards to my failure.

I fell against the post, feeling defeated. The women stared, confused by my presence. I wanted to tell them not to look at me, but I soon realized that perhaps it was a good thing that I had their attention. If they were all ears, I would speak.

"Women," I spoke, my voice hoarse from not speaking for a day, "I want all ears to hear me. If one of you does not want to involve yourself in my schemes, speak now. For I will assume you all desire freedom. Back to our homelands. I promise, at the end of this, we shall see our open plains."

If I had had their attention already, they practically preened like dirtied blossoms before me. Not one spoke. The whites of their eyes became wider, and they stared fretfully, almost frantically. They wanted to understand. To know what they could do to escape. We would fight because we did not have anything to lose, save our lives. And those we could do without, if we were caught in the process.

"Does any one among you know how to wield a sword or knife, any sort of weapon?" A few women raised their palms to the sky, and I found that a ghostly smile had unearthed on my lips. My plan circled around the idea of the celebratory drunkenness that would take place tonight. It would not be easy…but I decided that we could manage.

"Tonight, we must do all that they say. Feed them. Assist them. Hand them drinks. Serve them as much as you can. Try to capture their interest…those that do not drink, attempt to offer…"

My words spilled out over the sea of women and children persuasively. Did I know what I was doing, their faces questioned. I did not know if I knew, only that I was determined. I wanted to take down the entirety of the army set before us. After I had spoken to the women, I watched as cloaked figures dashed through the high grasses towards us. It was Raehar and Jaromir. They had escaped the men's bondage.

"Lady Maerien, we await your call. We have only moments before we must return…" They meant that they would go back to being shackled, and I swallowed fiercely, knowing that they were perhaps the most loyal men to Eomer that I'd ever seen. It shook me to the core, and I felt the effects deep in my throat. But I could not allow emotion to overtake me thus far, and I sent them on their way, once we'd finished our hushed talkings.

The night glowered overhead, and I felt my breath become shaky. The women seemed jumpy as well, and I heard the cries of war crackle through the air overhead. The men had finished their meeting, and came to loose us all into the crowds for the taking. I watched as women were auctioned off, grappled and touched by random men. We filed through the crowds, being given jugs of wine and the girls that they thought were pretty, they ordered to dance. A man pointed to me, and told me that I'd be dancing, but Cairion stopped me from obeying. He led me to the large celebration field, where there was an enormous fire at the center that blazed deafeningly bright. It was an inferno, the heart of all hells. I tried to maintain a confident foot aside Cairion, but the moment we arrived in the throng of men and women, he pushed me out into the center where the women had begun to fearfully dance.

I gave him a quizzical expression, but he simply stated, "Its your home. You belong there."

I turned my back to him, and faced the jagged flames. If I were a coward, I would have thrown myself into those enveloping flames, given in to the fate that so audaciously splayed itself. But I wasn't going to give in just yet. So I posed, and turned back to face him.

I met his eyes skillfully, dragging my body into a delicate position, and began to dance.

The women followed my lead, and I smiled softly as the men began to clap at our performance. A smile that did not come from enjoyment, but the hidden fury rebelling against the cage of my sternum. I at once picked up a jug of wine and stepped forth to the first scraggly man I saw, and lifted it to his lips. He looked partially dumb, wildly searching for the tip of it. Like a bleating like goat- I thought. How pathetic. As much as this scene sickened me, I continued to bring it round to each of the men. The women followed my lead, and as the hours passed, we were facing a riotous group of drunken men.

Cairion, I had noted, had yet to drink a sip of it. He watched me across the flames, sitting in lovely carved chairs with his officials and higher in command. I met his gaze often, knowing that this would perhaps coax him from his hiding place. I then glanced towards the outer edge of camp, watching as the shadows shifted. More time. We needed more time.

The women were becoming exhausted, pillaged by the fretful tenacity of the warriors. I worked to enliven them. I grabbed at their hands, and twirled with them. Most probably thought I was crazy, but the false sense of excitement worked. We were free, standing up and performing delicately, with the poise of a people who owns their own lives. We would never be prisoners, not with such boldness, never with such passion. No one could stop us. My plan was spiraling upwards, ascending with perfection. Like the coils unraveled in a snakes strike.

Men had began to play certain instruments, riveting drums and deep stringed opulence. I was fascinated truly, by the foreignness of them, being that my life up until a week ago had been pertaining to music and dancing. I had flashes back to my life before this, the title I had brought for myself. I had gone from slave, to entertainer. I was honorable. So why did they keep calling me something that I wasn't? I felt a small bubble of pride lurch in my chest, and I fell into dance alongside some of the other women.

If I were a harpie, a scandalous blight to the face of man, then I'd be it now. I would watch them all suffer death. Because although I am not one to choose whether they deserve life or not, I choose to live my own life, rather than give it all up. How could I not fight? How could I not want victory? Being alone, living so singular and trivial for the entirety of my life until a week prior, I would not allow them the pleasure of winning. And if, after this night…they won? Well, I'd die in the process. My heart had become a hardened gem in my chest. For freedom of myself and the innocent women and children subjected to such a tempest of a life.

"Maerien," A woman's lips mouthed, although I could not hear her voice over the din of the music and laughter. By the set of her jaw I saw that she presumed something to be wrong, and I simply glanced around. One man choked, squealing. Another dropped. Men began to heave and sputter. The poison was settling in their veins.

I watched as Cairion's face recognized what was happening, and the men who had not drank stood. They roared treacherously, and they immediately drew their swords, and I froze.

"Run," I spoke under my breath to the nearby women, "Run. Now!" I ordered them, and they fled like gazelle into the forest, bleeding into the populace of dying men. I directed children to the forest. My heart pounded. I don't think there was ever a time that I had felt so much adrenaline. My skin ached with cold chills, and I ran with the scattering herd of women and children until I reached a tent. I hid within it, and listened as a woman shrieked. I heard the grotesque hacking noise as she was cut down. My mind raced. We knew that there would be death. Escape was a battle in itself. But the noises ruined my gut, and I darted about the tent, groping, scoping and searching for anything that I could use as a weapon. In a barrel, I found a small sword, and it was heavy in my palms. I had never held one before. But I needed to use it. I had to save the rest of the women.

When I emerged from the tent, the entire camp was in uproar. Men lay dead every few feet on the ground, spaced almost sickeningly even. The women were dark blurs sprinting towards the forest, hiding, and being attacked. Some had followed my thought, and had found weapons to use. Though they fought, I saw that we were no match for the brute force of the leaders. One child was running, lost.

I raced towards him, calling the boy as a warrior trekked forth, him being the target. My sword met with a clang against his, and I fell back. The boy ran away quickly. The world spun, and I rolled as the warrior brought his sword down with a crack. It split the ground. I jumped up and ran. I wished that I was not wearing a dress, because it caught on the sticks and loamy earth. My ears deepened the pressure, and I could hardly breathe.

"Go- into the forest!" I called, and from behind me, I was caught and flung against a tree.

My body ached, and I felt ribs crack. No. This could not be the end. Not yet. I stumbled to my feet, dazed and disoriented. The firelight cast shadows all around the black night, and I did not know which way to go. I saw a figure saunter towards me, and I jumped back quickly. But his blade brazed my arm. I seethed, and then I recognized him.

Cairion stood before me, breath leaving his lungs in great coils of smoke. A dragon of a man. I swallowed tightly. He'd longed for this. He'd wanted this opportunity for so long. If I had not organized the mass poison, standing before him now prepared to die, he would have killed me anyway. This much I knew, and I longed for silence. Death ruptured all around us, and I wanted to vomit. To excrete the very scent of it on the air.

"You've no where to turn, no where to hide Maerien. You're a pathetic excuse of a woman." He raised his fist, and I felt myself being pulled backwards. A man had grappled me from behind, and swung me up onto a horse. It was Raehar and the other men. The following events took place quickly, but I did not see the blade that slit Cairion's throat, only watched as blood pooled around his chin and he fell back dead.

The rest of the men went back to kill off the rest of the army, and I sat precariously behind Raehar. He gave me a sharp nod, and then yelled a hawk-like noise to the rest of the men. He was calling them back. I shook my head.

"No, no- we cant leave them. There are still children there, there are still women-"

"There's nothing we can do! The scouts have already left for reinforcement. We must go now, we have three days travel until we reach our lands!" He bellowed, and I felt hot tears slick my face. I vomited over the edge of the horses gleaming muscles.

"There's nothing we can do, no more than we can do," He reiterated, and I felt myself crumble, wither. I could not leave them. The rest would most likely be found in the forests by the scouts…our plan would be for nothing, and I would be the sole woman who escaped. The sacrificial embodiment they now played exterminated any sense that I had left, and I tried to jump from he horses backside, but Raehar stopped me. His large hands spanned around my arms and restrained me. I attempted to hit him, to let him release me, but he would not have it. We galloped onwards, tremulous and raging into the night.

I could do nothing but stare back into the haunting grounds that would now be reserved for hundreds of women's and men's death. A poisonous battle. My doing. And in the wake of my leave, silence fell over the dead, and I was left to wonder if I truly had saved even myself.

Chapter Fifteen:

The sun danced on my eyelids that morning.

We'd reached the halfway marker, and the land had began to flatten and roll out like a grassy carpet beneath us. As I tried to move, I realized that I had been laid on a blanket. I peered upwards into the luminous skies. The sun was grating, and resonated in the nerves of my eyes. I shut them, digging my fingers into the soft blanket beneath me. The hills spanned gloriously before us, and clouds roiled over a mystique blue, casting their shadows across them. I wrapped the blanket about myself, and looking down, I recognized it.

"What?" I gasped to myself, and stood clumsily. The blanket was the quilt that I'd made for Eomer. Along the exterior of the small campsite the men had set up, a small black puppy yapped. I loped towards the campsite, and scooped Zanathe up into my arms.

"Awake I see?" Jaromir smiled bitterly, and the rest of the men portrayed the same solid expression. They had lost hope. But then, so had I. I felt my muscles tremble and quake as I regained the consciousness of what had occurred mere hours before. Though, it did not seem real. Here, amongst the solitude of our homelands hills, the nights events did not seem so wicked, nor so real.

As I stared at the men, standing over them, holding my quilt and my puppy, I wondered wildly if I had simply dreamed the night. But then I felt my forearm, and the cut was still fresh, "We must return for the women…" I droned. My voice was hoarse, and shelled from yelling and screaming the night before. Another reason that it was not a dream.

"There is nothing we can do, Maerien. As of yet."

My heart died, and for a moment I did not think I'd heard him correctly. I swallowed, and let the cold, alien reality settle. I did not want to believe that they would all die, or that they all wouldn't be given a chance. The terrible state of things crashed around me, and I wanted to vomit again. All I could see was death. Men dying, women being hacked to the ground. I wanted to cleanse myself of the disgusting feeling, but to deject the feeling was to deject the dead. I would embrace the loss, and when I returned to Eomer, I would not be the horrified slave that I left as. I would be a warrior princess, and I would assure that their deaths were avenged…death, it really wasn't as hard to face in this instance.

I had had to set my love of Eomer aside, and face the reality. Now, where had it gone? Overnight it seemed, that suddenly I was alone. But I could stand. I did not need him to breathe, and for the first time, I felt free. I loosed my fingers through Zanathe's black pelt, and kissed him on the forehead. The puppy crooned and licked my cheek.

"Let us leave now. I wish to speak with the King," I demanded.

I stood in the audience hall alone, facing the throne.

My heart pulsed rapidly, and I held a hand to my stomach. I would see him now, in a moments time. I had not taken the time to dress properly or wash, and I could only imagine how he would see me. Tattered, messy, beaten and down trod. But the idea of him send shivers down my spine, collecting in savor-able pools at the base of my spine. Eomer…he loved me.

I felt like a child again, yet so much stronger. My posture suggested servantry, while my face remained emboldened and fervent. I held now a reason, a purpose for me to fight. Eomer would surely understand. I braced myself, enveloped in formidable introspect. He would be here soon. I felt my heart like a bird high in my throat. I wanted to release it, but then, the doors flew wide.

I did not move a muscle, only stared at the throne.

His footsteps were just as I remembered, soft, yet purposeful. He strode with pride, a deep intent in his placement. He stopped only a foot behind me, and I hung my head.

"You're alive," He spoke almost erratically, and I flinched. Had he not known that I'd survived? I did not want to face him. I wanted to stand still and encounter the silence between us. I did not desire his kisses, not now at least. He then reached out a hand and spun me to face him. He wore a brown shirt, loosely buttoned to reveal his tan chest. A belt was strapped round his middle and suggested muscles. His arms flexed habitually, and I took in all of him before settling on his face. I stared. His dark brows were pained and elated all at once. Hope had drowned his face. His gold hair was longer now. I felt the love that I had once had for him flush my very bones to the core, and I fell into his arms.

"Maerien," He whispered into my neck, holding me, encircling me with loving arms of gracious compassion, "Marry me, be my wife." It was an order, as emotionless as something that he would say to a kinsman. I felt tears stinging my eyes, and I held him around the middle, my face pressed against his chest. The passion that I had thought had been lost had been reignited, and I felt myself melting into him, willing myself to be apart of his very being.

"I cannot," I spoke easily, holding him, breathing in the scent of him.

He ripped me from his chest and searched my eyes, but I lurched forth to embrace him again. He did not let me.

"What? What do you mean?" He gave me a curious smile, the sort that would suggest challenge.

"I left a people behind that died for freedom. I cannot marry until I see the Southern Kingdom conquered," I lowered myself, kneeling before him, "I offer my services as a warrior in training. I will work my way up. I will train every day. I must avenge those who died in my honor…please, you must understand this?" I peered up into his chocolate eyes, and he simply showed compassion.

"This is why you will not marry me?" He stated blankly. He smirked, and pulled me up. He was so close, and the smell of him intoxicated me. I laughed. Yes. Yes, this was the reason I could not marry him yet.

"You will be a warrior Queen. I will not allow you to be anything less, Maerien."

I laughed, freedom rejoicing within me. Harmony spread from the tips of my fingers to the base of my feet, and I smiled. My King and I would burn a new age into the Southern lands together, and then, maybe then I'd realize the severity of our circumstances. Nothing could hold us back.

I stood facing my love, watching his face carefully. I did not need, for I could breathe alone. Now, it was pure and utter passion that reigned in me. A warrior Queen I would be, his and only his.


End file.
